Locked In and Loving to Hate It
by Quasi-suspect
Summary: Ex-best friends Santana and Quinn are accidentally trapped in a storage room for an entire night and are forced to deal with their past issues and their present desires. This night could begin a journey to the repair they need or to the destruction they have been avoiding. Alternatively, the night could lead to something else..something more powerful than either of them imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I welcome feedback, but keep in mind that this is my first fanfic. This story takes place in an alternate Glee universe. It starts near the end of Santana and Quinn's junior year. I think you'll be able to note some of the differences, but just to start...in this world Quinn never had Beth, and Santana and Quinn went to the same school growing up.**

**Thank you for reading, and I hope you get some enjoyment out of it!**

**Locked In and Loving to Hate It**

Santana's POV

My body ached, and not in the delicious sort of way. The poor excuse for carpet did nothing to provide a barrier between my ass and the concrete floor. It's not that my ass is without cushion, but I was certainly regretting the extra Latin dance class I took on to teach, and the many extra laps over the years that Coach Sylvester made me run when I just couldn't manage to hold back my Santana brand word vomit. Which was quite often.

I shifted my weight uncomfortably in attempt to find a not so cold and not so hard spot for my cheeks, and at the same time find a proper spot on the shelf behind me to support my drooping neck.

The queen herself, Quinn Fabray, appeared to be resting semi-comfortably. If she could manage, why couldn't I? I definitely had a privileged upbringing so far, to say the least, but I still didn't expect to be the high-maintenance one in this situation. The thought only pissed me off more. It's like the whole idea of once you come to the realization that you hate someone, suddenly everything they do is offensive. "Look at the way stupid way she is wearing her ponytail and eating her applesauce as if she thinks she's better than everyone else." Hey, I never claimed to be rational, and it won't get any better from here.

When it comes to her High Holiness my thoughts are often more along the lines of how irritating her perfectly toned body is or how bothersome it is that she can't seem to close her mouth completely after she is done speaking or singing. Usually when people walk around with their mouths open it makes them look like they are running on an IQ deficit. Seriously, try it. She manages to make it sexy, and I hate it.

"Santana, how about you actually try to rest rather than wasting your energy on glares that I can only assume are attempting to compel the explosion of my brain," Quinn snapped lazily, and her eyes fluttered open only briefly to challenge mine.

She had a point. It was after midnight, and we had almost five hours until someone would be here to release us from our current imprisonment. I never imagined that Quinn would land a position at my work a mere two months after I started here, and I certainly never imagined that our strained co-worker relationship would lead to us locked in one of the supply rooms all night.

I loved my job before Quinn spoiled it with her perfume and her work outfits. I worked at this music and arts after school program for at-risk children, and sometimes parents and members of the community scheduled private lessons with me in the evenings and on weekends. It was my escape, and it was my time to breathe away from the expectations and pressures of school, and the perfectly shaped blonde thorn in my side.

"Don't flatter yourself. I would die of boredom if I focused my attention on you for more than a second, and I'm not suicidal. This closet we're in has far more depth and entertainment value than any of your failed attempts to sing songs meant for ethnic divas." I responded without missing a beat. This was second nature for me after all. I'm sure insults have been around since forever. You would think that someone would have come up with a better defense mechanism by now.

"You're such a bitch." Quinn spewed as she crossed her arms over her chest, but there was a certain degree of defeat evident in her voice.

I was used to that. Hell, it was what I deserved. I was a bitch. Especially to Quinn, but she deserved it. Every remark. Once upon a time, we were two inseparable weirdos who would rather eat bugs than give up our seats next to each other in Kindergarten. And we did just that. We lived and breathed our friendship, and I loved her. Around the time when the other little girls began to giggle and whisper to one another when the little boys came around, my best friend was the one who gave me those tiny and insistent butterflies. I didn't think anything of it. I had no reason to think it was strange, and I was not threatened when some fool named Matt gave her a mood ring that she wore the whole summer before fifth grade. We may have been forced to give valentines to every joker in our class, but Quinn and I always stuffed each other's valentines with the most candy. That's what counted.

So when did my fantasy bubble burst? It was eighth grade. Sure, Quinn and I failed to do anything more intimate than spending every weekend stuffing our bras together and falling asleep with our hands tangled in the other's hair, but to an 8th grade closeted lesbian those things meant love, marriage, and a baby carriage.

Believe it or not, I've been on the accelerated academic track with Quinn since we were sexless rugrats. It was in our eighth grade accelerated algebra class where my world came crashing down. Our bozo teacher, with his suspenders always covered in some sort of unfortunate farm animal, would always make us break up into partners the last few minutes of class for problems. Not only did Quinn turn away from me for the first time all year in favor of a prepubescent, smelly, and awkward boy, thus breaking our silent pact to always be partners, but she enjoyed herself with him. Soon he and his twerpy friends were pelting the burgeoning goddess about who she wanted to get with and who she wanted for her Winter Formal date. We always went to those dances together. We led the crowd of bitches-in-training that pointed and laughed at the gangly and spastic.

She wasn't laughing with me then. I watched unhealthily as he grazed her hand with the eraser of his pencil. She didn't recoil or shudder, in fact, she smiled the traffic stopping Quinn Fabray smile with her newly brace free teeth. That smile melted me at age 6, 8, 10, 12…well, it still took great willpower not to react to her smile even at age 16.

It wasn't just the partner ditching or the creepy pencil touching that shattered my tweeny bopper heart into a million tiny pieces that no "Future Cheerio" folder could hope to organize or restore.

Mr. 5 foot nothing proceeded to garble, "only lesbos go to the dances without dates."

Whatever. He was a drooling loser. Most guys didn't approach me at that age because I was meaner, taller, and stronger than most of them. I hated the term "lesbo." It made me feel gross in a way that "dyke" never did.

He was two seconds away from getting a Santana Sandwich of the fist variety, when Quinn gasped, her face soured with disgust, "_sick_. I would go with every boy in the world to the dance before I would date a girl. I'm not a lesbo."

I honestly don't know if she saw me leave class. The doofy teacher certainly didn't notice. I tore out of that building like it was either on fire or full of puppet waiving guidance counselors determined to make me come clean about my feelings. I barely managed to make it over the hill and onto the cross country field before I lost it.

"Earth to Latin Bimbo Barbie. Does your phone have service yet?" Quinn had left her phone in her locker like a good little employee. I was not so well behaved. All the good it did me, since in this circle of hell I was without any hint of cell reception.

The Barbie reference sent me down a whole different avenue of memory lane. I set up that police barrier and my spike strips ripped through those tires before that avenue could distract me.

"Why? Afraid one of your baby daddies will be worried?" That one was cold. Even by my standards. Quinn had a pregnancy scare only a few short months back. I honestly didn't know if she miscarried or aborted it, but it was sure a hot spot of sensitivity.

Quinn jolted upward, and for a moment I thought she was going to charge right at me. My body tensed as I prepared, but she charged the door instead. She slammed the full force her meager body weight into the door (which would need to be pulled to open from our side), before she started jerking the handle with all of her might. She was losing it. I had cracked Queen Quinn's precious armor. Triumphant smile. Check.

Even when we first realized we were trapped she didn't react with such violent fervor. Earlier, I was carrying a handful of the instruments back to the storage room when I heard the distinctive pad of Quinn's ballet flats approaching the room from behind me. She had never closed with me before, but she was giving her very first private lesson. She had been on cloud nine that some snot nosed kid's parents were going to pay her for her mediocre talents. At least she _was_ floating until I brought her down with one of my witty jabs right before her lesson was supposed to begin.

I could feel the tension in the air when she approached, and I knew she was still bothered by whatever I had said earlier. Good. Knowing that she was aggravated by me made it a little easier to tolerate being around her in her tank tops and athletic boy shorts. As if the Cheerio uniform wasn't enough to tolerate. Her exposed legs never failed to make me a tad light headed. I needed to get over it. It wasn't as if her clothing was that scandalous. We worked with kids after all. My outfit was certainly no better.

I snapped out of my thought cycle, but Quinn continued to make her fruitless assault on the door. I don't know what possessed me to do so, but I smoothly gathered myself to my feet and approached the blonde madwoman. Her fists were flying at the door, and she was beginning to yell for help. Her veins were protruding from her neck by the time my hands reached her shoulders.

It could have been my imagination, but her breath hitched in a peculiar way at my contact. It probably was not my imagination. I had focused on her breath for hours on end. I was well aware of its patterns.

She spun wildly before I could finish my thought and her hand forcibly grabbed one of my wrists before I could safely remove it from her shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

* * *

9:13 p.m. Three hours before Quinn grabbed Santana's wrist…

_I don't bother to look up or acknowledge Quinn when she walks into the storage room. She doesn't catch on to the silent game that I so desperately want to play. I want her to quit. I want her to be fired. I don't care why she leaves. I just want her gone. I need my safe space back._

_"You have got to be kidding me with this mess in here. What did you do? We have to clean all of this up before I can go home?" Quinn growls as she throws one of her prissy fits._

_"Big plans tonight, Sinny Quinny? I bet getting kicked out of Celibacy Club really freed up your social calendar." I snark. My fingers absentmindedly slide along the rim of the drum I just finished placing on the shelf._

_Before I have the chance to grab the next drum from the floor, there is a sound burst of pure lady aggression, a tambourine crashes into my back, and a triangle and other assorted instruments clang against the walls and the shelves._

_My fingers tighten dangerously around the rim of the drum. I'm pleading with myself to not explode with more than verbal venom. I take one deep breath, almost forming a sort of feline position above the drum. Despite the internal war I am battling, I can still feel her green eyes burning into my back. I start to twist around and before I can even get, "you fucking bitch…" out of my mouth, pure panic hits me like a giant ice cold slushie that splashes over my entire body (although to be fair, I've never been slushied. I go to school with some crazy people, but no one is quite crazy enough to slushie Santana Gabriella Lopez). I leap forward in vain, unintentionally driving my left arm into Quinn's left shoulder, and, of course, the door clicks shut before both of my feet are on the floor again._

_Quinn is clearly pissed. Her lips are puffy, her face is flushed, and this "ARRHH" noise she is making is gradually getting loader. She probably thinks I ran into her on purpose just to be dramatic about being alone in the same room with her. Whatever she thinks, I really could not care any less at this point. I am livid._

_"You are a self-involved fucking idiot! God damn it! I hope your fucking tantrum was worth it because guess what, YOU JUST KICKED THE BOX THAT WAS THE ONLY THING PREVENTING THE DOOR FROM LOCKING FROM THE OUTSIDE AND WE ARE THE ONLY ONES LEFT IN THE BUILDING."_

_Quinn's face flushes an even deeper red from an obvious mixture of fury and embarrassment. She threateningly takes a step toward me, which is something that people rarely do. My hand is already in my pocket scrambling for my phone. This whole building has horrible cell service, but maybe, just maybe…nope, nothing._

_A small cruel smile forms on Quinn's lips, "Aw but you like 'em dumb, don't you, Santana? I'll be sure to incorporate bigger words into our conversations. I certainly don't want my lack of intellect to turn you on. That's Brittany's unsavory task."_

_To Quinn's credit, she doesn't flinch or take a step back, despite the fact that I can feel my eyes darkening from their normal deep brown to black. "You don't get to do that. NO! Back the fuck off, right now. She is your friend and she does not deserve your pompous ass ridiculing her." I am gritting my teeth, and my heels are pushing so hard into the ground that they are starting to burn. I have to prevent any forward motion. If I move, I won't stop moving. I am also not convinced that whatever movement I make wouldn't end with Quinn's back on the floor, and my fingers pumping wildly into her._

_I cringe at the direction my own thoughts take, and Quinn's expression softens slightly. Is it because she feels bad? Or did she believe my cringe was a reflection of Brittany related pain? I am constantly trying to convince myself that I don't know why Brittany S. Pierce fell into my life or into my bed. In any case, I know that it is none of Quinn's business. My study of Quinn's face makes her visibly uncomfortable, and she moves to the door to yank at the handle._

_Ugh. It was just a matter of seconds. If I hadn't stopped to take a breath I could have stopped the progress of the heavy door's slow but sure progress of trapping us here. As Quinn is engaging in her due diligence in stupidity, I glance down at the box that is still rather close to the door. I laugh audibly, and Quinn does not skip a beat before glancing over her shoulder to glare at me._

_"Simmer down, pantydropper. How is your foot?" There isn't the typical bite to my tone. Now that I look, it is visibly obvious which foot Quinn kicked the box with._

_"I don't understand what is humorous." Quinn's face tells a story of the sudden realization of a great pain. Her lips spread slightly._

_"That box is heavy. I would know. It's my job to prop the door open with it three times a week. I always put the small percussive instruments on top, because it is easy to access them there throughout the day…plus, the bricks at the bottom of the box, don't take up very much room. Which means, that once you kicked the box, and it didn't move enough to do the damage you wanted to inflict, you reached inside, grabbed a handful of jingle bells and ridiculousness and chucked it at me. Tantrum much?"_

_"You're hilarious." She shifts her weight onto her non-soccer kick foot, and turns back to the door to continue her futile effort to escape._

_Wordlessly, I gather a roll of foot wrap from the shelf, and I lift a chair from the far side of the small room. I position the chair against the wall and I flip over an empty crate to place in front of the chair. Removing instruments from some of the cushier bags, I stack the padding on top of the crate. Quinn is either focusing on the door, or pretending not to notice any of my movements._

_"Here." I barely pause to wait for her to turn and acknowledge my voice before tossing her the foot wrap._

_"I don't know what you expect me to do with this."_

_"Do you need a map? An instruction manual? Some sketches? Sit down. Put your foot up. Wrap your foot."_

_"The day I let you order me around Santana…"_

_"Is the day you prevent me from physically carrying you to the chair? Wrap it or I will, Q."_

_Something relaxes in Quinn shoulders, and it almost appears like she sighs. I can't remember the last time I called Quinn, Q. It was probably in eighth grade. I almost said that I have been successfully ordering her around since I replaced her as Cheer Captain. I can't put my finger on why I held my tongue. I rarely do when given the opportunity to point out my victories over her. Maybe because I am serious about her taking care of her foot. Eh._

_I keep one eye on Quinn as she tries not to hobble her way over to the seat. Her now crap foot lands on an uneven piece of carpet and I was sure she was going down. Her arms fly back and her face flashes the always apparent "oh shit" face. I move instinctively, and I'm next to her without really understanding how I got there, my arm is around her waist and my hand grips her hip, firmly preventing her otherwise inevitable meeting with the floor._

_Oh god. Quinn's arm flails caused her tank top to rise, and now my hand was flush against her skin. Her skin feels so warm, and incredibly soft. I inhale before I can stop myself and she smells of soft citrus, vanilla, and something I am not convinced I will ever be able to name. It was her, and it was intoxicating. I always used as much of my Captain power and manipulative social powers as possible to avoid being near her in the cheer formations. This is precisely why. I am one of the stronger girls on the team, and I have to assist with lifts. I can't think of a worse position for someone who wants to fuck the brains out of the person she hates most than standing directly below said person with her palm cupping the person's ass. Quinn's flawlessly cuppable ass. Yes, I realize cuppable is not a word, but there is really no other way to properly describe it._

_"I'm fine. You can stop whatever this is now. Seriously." Quinn snaps me back into the reality of our predicament and away from the fantasy of her body._

_I pull my arm and hand back immediately as if her skin had actually burned me. I have no idea how long my hand lingered there. How long did she wait to say something? Her breathing changes, but I'm too preoccupied with my attempt at a smooth removal to figure out why._

_Another unfortunate realization hits me, and I sit down an unnecessary distance away from the now seated beauty. I can't fall asleep tonight. Brittany told me once that I say funny things in my sleep. I've never been able to get her to elaborate, but I'm certainly not going to risk giving Quinn any sort of ammunition. More importantly, I will do anything to prevent even the chance of her finding out that she has a reoccurring role in my dreams._

_I look up to find Quinn struggling with the wrap. I can't recall her ever wrapping her own sprains for gymnastics or cheerleading or even the sprain she managed to get sophomore year in Glee. Her underlings always handled it for her. She never even had to ask. I give her verbal guidelines from the sidelines of the wall. She isn't responding to me, and she is clearly choosing her pride over efficiency or success. Typical._

_"Listen to me. I am comfortable over here and I really don't feel like making myself come all the way over there just because you are too stubborn to admit that you can learn something from someone else." I hate watching incompetence. Coach Sylvester and I have that in common. Additionally, it would not be in my best interests to be touching the silky skin of her ankle and foot. I could barely look at her touching herself without my mind wandering. I wanted those fingers on my skin._

Flash forward to a quarter past midnight...

Quinn's foot was now properly wrapped, for the most part, but I feared at any moment she might escalate her psychotic fit by kicking the door with her damaged foot. I snapped out of my thought cycle, but Quinn continued to make her fruitless assault on the door. I don't know what possessed me to do so, but I smoothly gathered myself to my feet and approached the blonde madwoman. Her fists were flying at the door, and she was beginning to yell for help. Her veins were protruding from her neck by the time my hands reached her shoulders.

It could have been my imagination, but her breath hitched in a peculiar way at my contact. It probably was not my imagination. I had focused on her breath for hours on end. I was well aware of its patterns.

She spun wildly before I could finish my thought and her hand forcibly grabbed one of my wrists before I could safely remove it from her shoulder.

"Stop touching me, freak. I don't know what made you suddenly decide that it was okay to put your hands on me, but it is definitely not okay. It is bad enough having to share the same air as you." Quinn's voice was shrill and barely controlled.

Her fingernails dug into the skin of my wrist as if to punish me. In one movement, I twisted my wrist in a circular motion and easily freed my wrist from her clutches. It wasn't the first time I have ever had to use that maneuver. I was torn between shock, hurt, and a sick sense of pleasure. I rarely glimpsed anger like this from Quinn. She usually played the part of the untouchable Queen Bee to perfection. The hurt was the last thing I wanted to internally address. I pushed away the crushing pain that the eighth grade me never fully dealt with. Shit like this, took me right back there. Sitting in that classroom, crying on the cross country field. Only Quinn Fabray could make me feel this depth of self-disgust.

The sick sense of pleasure? That was an easy feeling to come to terms with. I reveled in my ability to get under the Ice Queen's skin.

"What I have isn't contagious, you vacuous Lima loser. Next time, I'll let you have your panic attack. Get over yourself, Fabray. Not everyone is as into you as you are into yourself." The words spilled out effortlessly, and I made no effort to stop them. I saw red and my chest bumped aggressively into Quinn's.

"Are you going to threaten me now, Santana? Tell me how you're some tough bitch from Lima Heights Adjacent. You can't scare me with your bullshit when I grew up down the street from you."

I felt pure hate when she mentions our childhood. If she could remember the past so well, how can she call me a freak with such ease and lack of remorse? How dare she shame me for something that was evident in me from preschool. My girl Barbies got it on with each other everywhere. The Dream House, the Vacation Home, the Convertible, the Teenage Mutant Turtles lair. I mean everywhere. And it was a girls only sex party. Except for my Elvis ken doll, because he was invited on occasion. I mean, hey, he is Elvis Presley.

I can only fill one hand with the number of times I have walked away from a direct challenge, and I did so. Sure, it was only a few strides across the room, but those were some big steps for Santana Lopez. At least, that's what I told myself. I didn't exactly want to admit to myself that I would sooner hurt myself than lay a violent hand on Quinn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

**A/N: I should have posted this at the beginning of the series, but there is quite a bit of cursing in this story, and things definitely get rather harsh. If that is something that bothers you, you may not want to read this. **

** Otherwise, I'm planning on incorporating Quinn's POV at some point in the new few installments. Please let me know what you think. Private message me if you aren't the type to review, and if you are the type to review and you spend your precious time reviewing my story, I very much appreciate that. Thank you for the support! I hope this is an enjoyable installment, despite its lack of fluff. **

Despite my obvious effort to disengage myself from the conflict, Quinn continued to toss words at my back. "No matter how physically confined you may be, you still manage to walk away from everything. It's the only thing you have _ever _been good at."

The Quinn who put so much effort into presenting this façade of impenetrability had definitely been penetrated. I could have smiled at the thought, but I did not want to entertain any thoughts of penetrating Quinn at that current moment.

* * *

Thinking about penetrating Brittany, however, had a calming effect on me. Brittany came into the fold before eighth grade was over. Quinn and I had always been a twosome, but I knew things needed to change after that day in algebra. I had other options, sure. I could have withdrawn myself completely from any social circle involving Quinn, but that would not have been the proper means to achieve my ends. If I avoided all groups actually associated with her, I would have either been stuck with some group that adored her, or even worse with one of the groups consisting of the unwashed or socially incompetent. No, I helped build this social empire, and I was determined to stay.

I have not often failed in my life, and I have very rarely been rejected. I get what I want. Most of it comes easy, but I am willing to work for certain desires when necessary.

Now, while I don't consider Quinn to be an unrequited love anymore, back then I wanted to have the world with her. I wanted us to be the first to explore each other's bodies, and I wanted the first romantic "I love you"s and the "I'll never leave you"s. These days, I have no desire to be Quinn's girlfriend, confidant, or love. I hate her, after all. I do want to ravish her, however. I no longer desire for her to moan my name in the special way lovers do that sounds like a caress. I wanted her to scream it, as I possessed her body entirely with mine.

Little me, the sensitive booger that she was, took a few days off of school after the scarring event. I needed a plan of action that didn't involve blubbering all over school. My mother was actually at home a decent amount in those days, and my adolescent turning point happened to coincide with one of her long periods at home. The whole situation confused her, I'm sure, because I went from sprinting to the phone every time it rang in expectation of Quinn's calls, to refusing to answer a single one of them. Mom was a good sport though. She never pushed me to answer the phone or to make amends. She told Fabray that I was unavailable, whether Quinn called once or a dozen times a day until I returned to school. When Quinn would appear on our front steps, her knocks on the door began softly. Each day the knocks grew more aggressive. Quinn could knock as loud as she wanted. My mother still did not hesitate to turn the little blonde away. I was very grateful for my mother for that.

You could say that I went through some stages. I won't go into the stages of grief, although I'm sure my angsty tween jogged through every one of them. Aside from dealing with those cliché emotions, I spent the first couple nights wishing into the oblivion that Quinn would wake up and not only realize that she was into the ladies, but also realize that she was head over heels in love with her thirteen year old best friend. As I grew up, I slowly came to terms with the various stigmas attached to falling outside of the point of pure hetero on the sexuality spectrum (if such a thing exists). I saw the sermons, I read the books. I had a father who was convinced that homosexuality was responsible for global warming, world hunger, and Amsterdam. The funny thing is, that growing up, I never wished to transform into a sexually normative female. I liked being a girl, and I liked besting boys in arenas that boys were stereotypically assumed to triumph in. But, I would have snapped my fingers if I could have transformed myself into a boy. Not because I had penis envy, or really felt like I needed dangly bits. I felt as home in my own body as any 13-year-old girl does (which isn't very homey, to be honest), but I wanted to be what Quinn wanted. That's all. I didn't care if I was what every other straight girl in the universe wanted. I just wanted to be desired by her.

It took me a few days and nights to process the impossibility of that particular wish. So, if I couldn't be what she wanted, what could I do? Ah, I could make it more difficult to get the things that she wanted. In fact, I could achieve the things she wanted to achieve, and hook up with the people she wanted to hook up with.

I knew I couldn't leave my social circle to achieve these things properly. No no. It was going to be difficult to become the Head Bitch, because I had always shared such titles with Quinn. Quinn reached out to more people, and she seemed to care about more people than I ever did. She was the center of my world. I had to shift my center in order to make this work.

It seems incredibly malicious looking back. If I truly loved this girl, if one can truly love someone at 13, why would I go to such lengths to hurt her? It's all I knew. Quinn was the only person I truly went out of my way for. Other people were disposable, and if someone got in our way, we destroyed their middle school/elementary school lives. It was fun for us.

The glaring sickness of it all is obvious now. I don't think in the same terms anymore. I spent almost two years attempting to be this perfect puppet master, and I was rather successful. Slowly, but surely things changed for me, until one day I was not living my life to hinder the happiness and steal the dreams of Quinn Fabray, but I was living for me. I received the top grades, because I wanted a successful future, not just because I wanted to outrank her. I cultivated and developed friendships that were healthy for me, and was not doing so in order to gain the upper hand in social capital. I fought to become Head Cheerio, because I learned that I loved to lead and organize people. I stuck with Glee, because it gave me an outlet for my creativity and voice. Final example, I sought out this job, because it was completely detached from the deranged goals of my younger years. I taught dance for pleasure, and drums for release. I may have discovered my drive to pursue the other activities and goals through a detestable means, but this place was not tainted by my past until she decided to add it to her resume.

Brittany was even tainted by my past actions, as much as I truly did not want her to be. She was my first friend target. I elevated her from the ranks of our group, because she was easily influenced. On my first day back to school, I walked right past my former best friend who waited anxiously at my locker, and I brazenly linked arms with my new partner in crime. Brittany, the sweetheart that she was, never suspected any ill intent on my part. She was merely excited to get to know me better. Although I attempted to plant some unsavory things about Quinn in Brittany's mind, those things never really stuck. Brittany would make a few rude comments here and there, but she did not have a real malicious bone in her body, and genuinely just wanted her friends to be happy.

She became a real friend, and not just someone I used to make Quinn feel small and insignificant. From that day on, I only talked about surface level things with Quinn and only when we were in a group. I was my "normal" sarcastic, although increasingly more inviting self when I interacted around her in a group at activities, parties, classes, but If she tried to talk to me one on one, I either ignored her completely or insulted her. While our group could certainly decipher that the dynamic between Quinn and I had changed, we were still viewed as the unit at the top of the period, and Brittany joined us up there as well. The Unholy Trinity, some people began to call us. If only they knew.

Quinn caught on to my change in demeanor right away, but since I never allowed her to talk to me about it, I never explained the shift. She adjusted quickly enough, but I could she was growing icier by the day.

The boy who originally started the "lesbos" conversation was named Noah Puckerman, and although he did take Quinn to Winter Formal, I took him to bed our freshman year of high school. They were still dating at the time. He's still the only boy I have gone "all the way with." I made sure word got back to Quinn and they were done before Thanksgiving break. Puck was always an ass, but he was never quite the villain I made him out to be. We hooked up a few times over the next couple years when it suited me or when I could see they were getting close again. I even dated him for a spell, just to prove that I could have him, and discard him whenever I pleased.

* * *

"No matter how physically confined you may be, you still manage to walk away from everything. It's the only thing you have _ever _been good at."

"That's funny, Quinn. I'm sure some of your former boyfriends would say differently."

A couple short months ago Quinn's then boyfriend, Finn, decided to leave the gorgeous blonde for the Glee club resident crazy girl, Rachel. I could not even begin to comprehend the reasoning behind that choice. To make things worse, Finn was the one who impregnated Quinn in the first place. I wasn't sure which, but Finn either left Quinn when Quinn was pregnant, or shortly after something happened to the baby. Either way it was a huge dick move on Finn's part. I landed him at the nurse's office the very day I found out. I went berzerk. Of course it was where no one else could see, but I landed a few mighty roundhouse kicks squarely into his ball sack. He was crying like the bellowing idiot that he is. I never gave him an explanation, and he never asked. Well, he didn't say much of anything to me ever after that incident.

"Also, if I'm not good at anything than you must really suck, since I'm better than you at everything. I am a better singer, a better dancer, a better cheerleader…I can do a double back flip/tuck, and you still have issues holding a stupid position on the top of the pyramid." I turned around as I spoke and gazed defiantly into the smoldering green eyes that were previously piercing into my back.

"Who the fuck _are_ you? What happened to you to turn you into such a monster?"

"You don't know me."

"I practically lived on top of you for a decade. You're kidding yourself. I see you, Santana Gabriella Lopez, and what I see is ugly."

I stretched my hands out at my sides, releasing the tension that was building in my fists. My palms faced her and I spread my fingers out wide. I wiggled my fingers in my direction to signal her to bring her complaints closer.

"Ugly? You need glasses now Fabray? I learn something every day. I didn't think robots ever needed corrective lenses."

Quinn looked composed despite her injured foot as she approached. It wasn't the most graceful approach but boy did Fabray look determined. I would have thought the expression on her face was adorable, if I was anyone else. I had no idea what she planned to do when she reached me, but I sure as hell was going to stand my ground. Quinn stopped her advancement with just shy of four inches between our bodies. I struggled to regulate my breathing.

"Yup. Just as ugly up close. You are just a malicious, shallow, sidekick who thinks she deserves far more than she is worth."

My eyebrows narrowed, but otherwise I prevented any other reaction from reaching my features.

"Sidekick? You're living in the past, sweetheart. What exactly do I deserve?"

Quinn's features twisted into a grimace, and I was so focused on not backing down from her stare that I didn't see the slap coming before it was too late. My cheek was numb for an instant before the strong stinging sensation spread. It was my turn to capture her wrist this time. She immediately wound her other hand back, I'm sure a noble attempt to even out the coloring of my cheeks, but I snatched her other wrist before it was able to even move past her shoulder.

"I'm not your fucking sweetheart, and that slap was not even a fraction of what you actually deserve." She struggled against my grip to no avail. She pulled my hands repeatedly against and away from her breasts, thrashing her torso. "I told you not to touch me!"

"No, you don't get to go all hoodlum Barbie on my face and then tell me not to touch _you_." I drew her unwilling body closer to me. I'm sure she could feel my breath on her face just as I could feel hers on mine. She started trying to drop her knees down to the floor to get away, but my hold on her did not falter.

"_Let _go."

"What do I deserve, Quinn?"

"Stop."

"Why are you so angry, Fabray?" I mocked.

"_No_. Give me back my arms." Quinn was surprisingly strong.

"And if I don't? What are you going to do? Wiggle against me some more? Come on. You want to act all tough? You wants to gets all up in my grill? Step to me? Now is the time to be brave. Not so easy when you don't have your hive with you, huh? Now tell me what the Divine Quinn Fabray believes I deserve?"

Quinn was panting with effort at this point, but I was not about to relieve any pressure from her wrists. She was growing tired, and would unintentionally rest her chest against mine between her bursts of effort.

"Go fuck yourself, Santana."

"Ah, is that what I deserve? A good fucking? Or is that just something you're interested in watching?"

The more I talked the less fixated I was on Quinn's body heat and heavy breathing against me. Despite my fury, her scent and proximity was clouding my head. Quinn's efforts were slowing dramatically into non-existence as she began to slump against me. Normally, she was approximately an inch taller than me, but with the help of my shoes and her current positioning, my lips were hovering just around her forehead.

"Santana…" Quinn pleaded breathlessly against my collarbone. It was barely audible, but it made my heart jump.

"Tell me, and I'll let you go, I promise." As if my promise would mean anything to her. I don't think an ounce of her petite frame trusted me.

Quinn closed her eyes, and although she was visibly exhausted, she feebly ventured to shift her weight back to distance herself from my chest.

"You deserve to be abandoned. Just like you fucking abandoned me." Quinn scathed. The words practically hissed out of her mouth while simultaneously dripping with a deep palpable agony.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

**A/N: Thank you all again for your reviews and input. I'm so happy that people are enjoying the story. I hope everyone continues to make the effort to leave a review or send a private message. Feedback is quite the motivator to keep updating :). **

_"You deserve to be abandoned. Just like you fucking abandoned me." Quinn scathed. The words practically hissed out of her mouth while simultaneously dripping with a deep palpable ache._

* * *

My jaw went slack, and my lips parted. I almost dropped her onto the floor from the pure shock and weight of her honesty. Instead I guided her onto her feet before releasing her. She looked defeated, and her eyes were downcast, but she stood up straight and took a step back from me.

I was expecting her to degrade me. I thought she was going to just spew all the nasty things she thought I deserved. Her response was not in my realm of possibilities. It was just so raw, and I could not even begin to process it. My mouth opened and closed once or twice as I tried to form some sort of verbal response. Santana Lopez speechless? This was a new and unfamiliar territory. My arsenal of verbal retorts was more expansive than my shoe collection, and that was saying something.

My silence seemed to aggravate Quinn, and her eyes rose to search mine. The line between her eyebrows became increasingly defined.

"You are un-fucking-believable. You _force_ me to tell you that and then you don't even have the minimum amount of respect that it would require to respond. I hate you. I _hate _you."

My own voice was screaming in my head, pushing me to speak, to say _something._

"…what?"

Brilliant, Santana. Representing your glowing GPA in style. Never has someone been more articulate. Quinn threw up her hands in front of her face in pure frustration.

Let's try this again, "I mean..you think I abandoned you?"

"That's what I said, dipshit." Quinn was exasperated. I didn't blame her for that.

"Cool your jets, pocket rocket. I _heard _you, I just didn't _understand_ you. How did I possibly abandon you?" I rolled my eyes in the typical Santana fashion.

"You must be joking. We were practically conjoined biracial twins from potty training until you suddenly dropped off the face of the planet in eighth grade. I was worried sick about you, and whoever it was that eventually came back was unrecognizable. This thing…" Quinn flapped her hand, gesturing to my body, "is not Santana. You may have her eyes and her dimples, but you are the shell without the pearl. Your soul has been sucked out."

My dimples? She noticed my dimples? Not important. I needed to focus on my anger. Anger is safe.

"That's pathetic, Quinn. I feel _sorry_ for you. You're still tormented by issues from the eighth fucking grade? You need _therapy_." Hey pot, it's me kettle. We've got to stop meeting like this. It was like I was just laying another brick onto the wall between us. Here Quinn was admitting that I hurt her, and all I could manage to do was belittle her. God, I was fucked up.

"Sorry for me, really? Unlike yours, my life is more than the outfit I'm wearing and whoever I'm screwing against the gym lockers that day. Not to mention I have a heart beating beneath my chest rather than an icy pump buried under my fake tits to keep them inflated."

Whoa, did Quinn see me having sex with someone in the locker room? I didn't have time to decide if I was aroused, embarrassed or disgusted. Brittany was the only one Quinn could have seen me with there, and I hoped that Brittany didn't find out that Quinn witnessed us getting our fuck on. That could put a damper on our sexual adventures, and I was just not okay with that. As for the boob jab, I begged my doctor father to fund the insertion of a couple of hefty high beams starting at the ripe ol' age of 14. Actually, I begged my mom to get the money from my dad. She shot me down every time, and when my boobs did develop into the blindingly wonderful hood ornaments they are today, everyone assumed I got them done.

"For the record, Ms. Peeping Pom Poms, these are 100% natural" I cupped my breasts over my black V-neck form fitted athletic tee to demonstrate. "Try to keep your tit envy under control."

"I'm not jealous of anything about you, Lopez. You disgust me."

I laughed darkly, dipping my neck down and to the side as I stepped forward.

"Then why do you still care about something that happened over three years ago?"

"Because I _loved_ you!" Quinn shouted before she leveled her voice to continue. "You were my person, and you left me without warning. I was a complete bystander to a life that was formerly intertwined with mine. It is normal to feel things, Santana. No matter what kind of fucked up delusional shit you have tried to convince yourself of, your constant impermeable exterior marks you only as a coward. Nothing more."

She was really starting to get under my skin. I hated that, and I hated myself for allowing it to happen.

"Boo fucking hoo, Fabray. Can we drop this? I needs ta get my sleep on, and you needs ta get out of my face now."

"No. It's your turn to be uncomfortable. You're stuck in here with me, and we're not dropping this. What _I _deserve is, knowing what happened to you."

I crossed my arms over my chest, and raised one eyebrow impatiently. She was insane if she thought I was going to open up even the slightest to her. I chose silence. I would rather forego listening to my sultry pipes than give Quinn anything that she wanted.

"Real mature, Lopez. I'll just start guessing then… just let me know when I'm getting close."

"Oh god, Quinn, if you need someone to tell you when you're getting close then your clumsy boyfriends are doing it all wrong."

Quinn ignored my dirty remark, and continued with her guessing game. "After you were abducted by aliens, you were too embarrassed to tell me about the extensive ass probing, so you shut me out instead. In fact, the probe's otherworldly powers turned you into a total raging bitch. No? It was a shot. How about, your mother found out that I hated her cooking, and threatened to send you to live with your dad in Arizona if we remained close?"

My mom loved Quinn, and never would have interfered with our friendship. Quinn was practically the little white baby that she never had. The blonde was right about the sort of lengths I would go to avoid my father. My father was an attending physician in Arizona, and spent most of his time there. My parents were still married, but it was really just a legal title. Internally, I flinched at the thought of living with him. He was not my favorite person.

"This is ridiculous, and a waste of time." I tapped my foot slowly, my arms still crossed. I briefly set my gaze on the light bulb above me.

"Hmm..you were in love with Puck and pissed that I got to him first."

I laughed in disbelief at that one. God, she didn't get it. While I never came out to her, I always felt like she should have known. Although, I also didn't personally identify with the label "lesbian" until the past year, I figured it was rather obvious where my interests fell.

"No? Damn. Then you realized you needed to distance yourself from me in order to successfully compete with me?"

Closer, kinda. I could feel my eyes darkening again. I wanted this game to be over. My eyes scanned her face as she contemplated her various hypotheticals. Her eyebrows had the ideal amount of arch, and the definition of her cheeks never failed to compliment her every expression. The curve of her delectable pink lips was rivaled only by the delicious curve of her body.

"You caught an STD from the condom that I specifically told you not to touch on the blacktop, and stayed home until your outbreak was controlled."

"You _know_ that I picked that _thing_ up with Sugar Motta's cardigan!" I growled. We had argued this point over three years ago and I was not in the mood to do it again. Quinn fought against the tug of a smile.

"Was it Brittany? Did you think that I would care that you wanted to see what was underneath her training bra? Because that is just…" Quinn sneered when she said Brittany's name, and seemed to stiffen in preparation for my reaction. She knew how protective I was of my long-legged blonde friend.

"It was you! Okay?! I was in love with _you_."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

**A/N: I know, I know, I left things on a just a ****_bit_**** of a cliffhanger last time. My apologies, kinda. Let me know what you think of this chapter, and happy Thanksgiving for those of you who are celebrating today. Thank you all again for all of the lovely feedback, and for those of you who are worried, this isn't just rated M for language. I promise you will eventually get your sexy times :). **

_"It was you! Okay?! I was in love with **you**."_

* * *

Fuck. Those words were _never _supposed to leave my lips. Fuck. Too bad I couldn't inhale sharply enough to suck those words right back into my mouth like they never left in the first place. It didn't feel like a reality. I had built this wall so carefully around myself, and I was fucking meticulous with the upkeep. Not as much lately, I supposed. I spent more time enjoying my life as of late than I spent fortifying my emotional walls. That's what happens when you get distracted and sloppy. Still, I couldn't believe that I said it.

Quinn was just blinking repeatedly, her lips parted slightly. Lips on a constant mission to torment me. Utter confusion flashed on her pretty little features. _Say something, Santana._ I needed to find a road out of this mess or hop on a broom and fly through a time travel portal circa _Halloweentown II_ 2001.

"I mean…I, you know, _thought_ I was in love with you." Brilliant. So much better. Ugh, I needed that broom. Pronto.

"It was stupid, I was just a kid. It's wasn't a big thing or anything." Nope. Talking myself out of this was not working. I was stumbling through my words like an awkward child. I was not an awkward person. I was clever, charming, and usually quite articulate. _It wasn't a big thing? Really?! _I had just admitted that being in love with her ended our friendship. Not only did I feel incredibly awkward, but I also felt hopelessly transparent.

"Santana…" Oh god, I wish she didn't say my name like that. It was soft and compassionate. It wasn't condescending or even indicative of pity. I could have been angry at pity.

"I didn't know…I _didn't_ know, Santana. I would have _never_ said those things if I had known." She raised her hand to the very cheek that she had slapped just a few minutes ago. She didn't hit me this time. Her fingers barely grazed the skin of my jaw, guiding my averted eyes back to hers.

_Wait, what?_ How did she know what conversation set me off? Did she know? She would have had to replay the last day of our normalcy over and over again in her mind searching for a reason for my change for that to be the case. She couldn't know.

Brittany described Quinn's eyes as a mossy green once when they were discussing possible prom dress colors. I could see it, but moss was not a sufficiently attractive comparison. The color changed so frequently with her moods and outfits, but right now, they were more of a deep olive green. Her eyeliner was finally starting to smudge. _That's what happens when you use an imperfect brush on a perfect canvass. _

I turned my head away from her hand. I couldn't think straight. I needed to be a thousand miles away from this girl and this room.

"No. Just don't." My voice was quiet, but far from soft.

"We're not on the cheer field, Santana. Stop ordering me around." I could feel Quinn's sweet smile directed right at me. I wouldn't dare to look at it. "Please talk to me."

Her palm touched my cheek this time as she gently tried to turn my head back to her again.

"Careful, Quinny. Don't want to provoke the horny giant of a _lesbo_ bear that I have inside of me." My eyes turned on hers of my own volition. God, I was fucking grateful that I had found my anger again.

She dropped her hand, and the smirk that formed on my face was one of victory.

"What you're doing right now, is not going to work. I'm sorry that I ever made that lesbo comment to those stupid boys. I was a 13 year old idiot, and I had no idea what that would do to you. Will you look at me please? I'm sorry. If you just would have told me…"

_She did know_. I didn't want to analyze what that meant. That was one dark scary tunnel that I did not want to take my chances going down.

"You would have what? What, Quinn? You would have made a point to show everyone that we were just friends? You would have questioned every hug and every sleepover we ever had? You would have felt sorry for me? You would have emphasized the word "friend" whenever we would talk about us? Go on, Quinn, what _would_ you have done, if I had told you?" _Shit._ I needed to shut this floodgate ASAP. Angry wasn't even safe anymore. I was screwed.

"I don't know." She looked sad. Like someone had let all of the air out of her. But, before I could jump all over her for her response she found her air, and her words. "So what, Santana? The solution was to verbally abuse me, socially sabotage me, and mentally torment me?"

"Yes. Exactly. Can we stop fucking talking now?" _Whoa._ I had no idea what I was doing right now. I wasn't wearing pants, thus, it was unlikely that I was flying by the seat of them.

"I hope it was worth it. I hope you got every ounce of pleasure you could have from my misery. That's just sick. Do you realize how sick that is?" She snarled behind her gritted teeth, and her voice increased in volume substantially.

"Of course, I do! I was really fucked up, I get it. This conversation right here is not going to change _any_ of that." I gestured to the both of us with a jerky wave of my hand. "Let's end it, and just stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours, okay? It will be a solid plan for the future."

Quinn was shaking. She kept looking up at the light, and swallowing. Tell-tale signs that she was trying not to cry. The way her arms were crossed, it almost looked like she was hugging herself. Her eyes began to glisten, and she bit down on her bottom lip.

"I came to your house every day while you were gone. I cried on your fucking doorstep. You refused my phone calls, and ignored my emails. When you got back, I humiliated myself for months trying to get you to just talk to me. How was that not enough punishment for something that I had no control over in the first place?" Quinn's voice wavered and her voice shook, but she didn't break down. Apparently, she wasn't going to agree to my plan of action.

I slid my right hand up and down my left arm slowly. What I did sounded so awful. I didn't know how I expected to fix my karma previous to this. I guess I just expected it to slowly balance out over time after I stop actively trying to ruin Quinn. If karma was heartbreak then the stabbing pain in my heart at Quinn's admissions was a good indication that I was on my way. That didn't seem fair though. I already had my heart broken once.

"Okay, so I could have made better decisions." I twisted my palms to the ceiling to demonstrate my guilt.

Quinn seemed to freeze in place. Her facial expression stilled, and her chest did not rise and fall with a single breath.

"Understatement of the century." She mumbled and rolled her eyes. It was then that she began to laugh hysterically. A full body event. I stared at her like she had spontaneously grown an extra limb, until the uncontrollable laughter hit me as well. We didn't stop laughing until we had both crumpled onto the floor next to each other against the nearest empty wall.

My sides were aching, and Quinn was holding onto her stomach as if she was experiencing similar pain there. We were both struggling to take those deep breaths that typically follow laughter fits. We weren't quite touching, but I could feel her body heat next to me.

"I'm sorry, Q. I know it doesn't mean a whole hell of a lot, but I am sorry."

Quinn looked over at me with an almost quizzical expression, and her broad smile was fading from her face.

"Now don't go getting your spankies twisted. This does not mean we're gonna be best friends again or anything." I couldn't leave the apology just hanging out there like that. I very rarely apologize, and I had an irrational fear that the longer the silence, the greater the chance of Quinn committing it to memory to throw back at me in the future.

Quinn's head was resting behind the wall behind her, and she elbowed me in the side gently. It felt oddly familiar, although I had not experienced such a friendly and natural gesture from her in years. She smirked over at me with her head tipped upwards.

"Maybe we can just chip away a bit at the "enemy" part of "frienemy". Her eyes were brighter now. I was close enough to see the fleck of orange within them.

"You want to be fries? This ain't no Happy Meal we're working with here, Fabray." I did not know what I was agreeing to, but after that laughter fit, and the emotional battle before it, my body was strangely relaxed. It was nice to just sit without verbally warring with her.

"Are you sure? Because I've heard you have quite the selection of packaged toys." There was that smirk again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

**A/N: All right, here is a chapter from Quinn's POV. Let me know if it is a perspective that you want to read more of in the future. Even if you don't have an opinion on that, I would love to hear from you anyway. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I held my books tight against my chest, and tried to swallow the yawn that was threatening to unattractively contort my face. I caught maybe an hour of sleep the night before in that stupid storage room. _Okay, I guess it wasn't completely stupid._

Some progress definitely took place in that dusty room, but it wasn't as if the night ended in a hug or anything like that. Although by the way Jennifer wiggled her eyebrows at Santana and me when the door finally opened that morning, I could tell that Jennifer assumed that a different kind of embrace took place that night. I told myself that the assumption was based on Santana's reputation, and not mine. _Whatever. _Gah, I was tired.

I rounded the corner to stop at my locker before my first class, and my eyes were drawn to her immediately. I don't think she slept a single second last night, but don't tell her face that. She looked like she had endless hours of beauty sleep. Every color she wore complimented her caramel skin. I've always been very envious of that. Some colors washed me completely out. Rich dark green was her color of the day, and it was a great choice for her off the shoulder shirt.

Of course Santana wasn't alone. Brittany was doing the stereotypical flirty girl pose with her back against Santana's locker with one leg bent and her foot rested flat behind her. Her head was tipped to the side as she smiled at Santana through her hair. The way they were looking at each other, and the way Santana touched Brittany's hip while she leaned into her, made it glaringly obvious that their relationship could not be appropriately characterized as just a friendship.

Their position involuntarily flashed me back to a few months earlier.

* * *

_"Oh shit, I forgot my phone in my gym locker." I curse to Finn, and push all of my books into his large meaty hands without asking his permission. I leave him to finish the trek to the choir room, and jog down to the locker room. I've always hated being late. Even if Mr. Shue isn't going to chew me out for it, the thought still made me anxious._

_I need my phone. The doctor is supposed to call me with my pregnancy test results today. I can't believe I was so stupid. I couldn't have a kid with Finn. Our kid would be so uncoordinated, and my vagina would be ruined forever after giving birth to such a giant. Of course, those aren't the most pressing concerns, but those were too difficult for me to think about at the moment._

_"Oh my god, San…how the hell do you do that?" A recognizable female voice moans, and I stop myself before walking deeper into the locker aisle. Brittany and her currently unidentified lover are in the general vicinity of my locker. Damn it. I think that maybe I can just hide for a minute until Brittany runs off to Glee practice. As mortifyingly awkward as this is, I really need my phone._

_I hide behind the end of the row just as Brittany releases an unmuffled moan._

_"Shhh…if I have to tell you to quiet down one more time, I'll stop what I'm doing." I've known Santana since preschool, and I've never heard her voice sound like this. It's a difficult thing to describe but she sounds so husky, dominating…and hot as hell. I hate myself for thinking that._

_"No…please…oh my god…" Brittany whispers heatedly._

_I hate my life right now. Curiosity gets the better of me and I peer around the row. Brittany's Cheerio skirt is bunched around her waist and one of her incredibly long legs is stretched out, her foot pressing against the opposite row of lockers. Santana's right hand is over Brittany's mouth, and her left hand is buried inside of the blonde._

_Santana's hand doesn't seem to be moving, but Brittany's writhing indicates that Santana is doing something with her hand that I would have to be inside of Brittany to see._

_My stomach turns in a very strange way. Finn and I don't have sex like this. And I don't just mean that our sex lacks foreplay. Although the scene in front of me does not seem like foreplay. I can't imagine this could be anything but the main event. It's just so…passionate. It's so hot. The only feeling that rises within me during sex with Finn is apathy with a twinge of disgust. If apathy counts as a feeling that is. Luckily, it is always over rather quickly._

_God, is Santana just brilliant at everything? It's not fair. Brittany's whimpers were getting louder. That's it. I have to get out of here. It's not like I will be any more or less pregnant if I'm without my phone for one hour. I quietly creep out of the locker room. My entire face is flushed, and based on the fact that I have reached the hallway and I can still hear Brittany's sounds of pleasure, I'm guessing Santana is going to shut things down soon._

* * *

"Earth to Fabray. Resist the call of your mother ship." Santana's taunt brought me out of my memory; it was so similar to something I had said to her last night. I realized that I am standing right next to them. I blushed, and hoped that I wasn't just staring at them. Brittany didn't seem to notice me, and just continued with their previous conversation, but Santana slightly narrowed her eyes in my direction.

"You worried me, San." That nickname had always sounded odd to me since the day I heard Brittany moan it. "When you didn't text me back I thought the Mexican Mafia finally got to you."

"Brit, you know I'm not Mexican." Santana's eyes rolled in frustration, but I could tell that she wasn't truly upset.

"Exactly, that's why they're after you." Brittany retorted matter-of-factly.

I smiled at Brittany's response, and absentmindedly glanced down the hallway.

"I'm sorry, Britt, but like I told you, I didn't have service."

"I'm so proud of the two of you for not killing each other, but if you ever do, Santana should paint herself red, and you should paint yourself blue, Quinn. And you should both punch like this." Brittany demonstrated with some very jerky punches.

"I think she wants us to go at it like Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots." Santana smiled over her shoulder at me, and I could see why she caused such a sexuality confusion stir at this school.

More to the point, she smiled at me, and said something without any venom or insult contained in it_. Did this make us friends? Did things really shift that quickly from just one night?_ In any case, it was nice to not be on the receiving end of her shit for once. I had missed my friend. I would never let her know exactly how much I had missed her. Some things were just better kept to myself.

"_It was you! Okay?! I was in love with __**you**__."_

I spent most of my night and morning replaying and analyzing those words in my head. I always knew that Santana was different. She was special. I guess I really didn't think about her in terms of her sexuality when we were kids. Looking back, I should have seen signs. Her Barbies were rather frisky with each other when we would play together, and she always insisted being the Red Power Ranger to my Pink Ranger. She hated the White Ranger, and would frequently tell me that the Pink Ranger was meant to be with the Red Ranger instead. Gee, now that I thought about it, it is kinda silly that I didn't pick up on that one.

As a child, I had thought that lesbians were supposed to look like boys with short spiky hair and baggy jeans. Santana definitely did not look like that. I frequently heard the guys talking about how chicken choke worthy she was. Even in middle school, she made me feel self-conscious because she seemed to skip the whole awkward phase. She seemed to go from cute, to pretty, to downright drop dead gorgeous in one fluid motion. She had sex appeal before any of us even knew was sex appeal was. Puck likes to refer to her as "walking sex", and that is exactly what she is.

But, until eighth grade, she never paid the boys any attention. There were no Billys, Jakes, or Peters, scrawled with hearts in her notebooks. God, how alone she must have felt. I've never been as close to anyone as I was to Santana. I can't imagine hiding such a big part of myself from the very person who knew me better than anyone else in the world.

It made me want to hug her, but that would be a surefire way to destroy the tentative peace between us.

"Okay chickies, I gots to bounce. See you in Trig, Q." Santana leaned forward to whisper in Brittany's ear. Despite purposefully turning my head to avoid it, I could still hear her sultry voice. "Meet me in the quad at lunch, and I'll make last night up to you."

I could only imagine what Santana's physical apologies entailed. _Uh_, did I want to imagine that? On a safer note, Santana's "See you in Trig, Q" sounded so natural. I didn't want to get my hopes up for things to continue in this direction, but I was definitely enjoying it nevertheless.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I was settled into my plastic blue chair when Santana came sweeping into the room. For once her pinky was not intertwined with Brittany's. She looked right at me without any hesitation or pretense. I have spent the last couple weeks just wondering when the other shoe was going to drop, but everything had been such smooth sailing so far. Things were so different now, because Santana would tease me rather than degrade me and she would actually speak to me rather than growl at me.

Despite the recent changes, I was so stunned by her hate free direct eye contact, that it took me a moment to absorb her outfit. _Holy shit. _Santana was wearing a men's white button down shirt, and it was not evident that she was wearing anything else. Logically, one would assume that she would _have _to be wearing shorts or something underneath it, but this _was_ Santana we were talking about. Bitch, be crazy. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in large spirals. Red lipstick, dark eyeliner, and black stilettos. _What exactly was she doing?_

She raised an eyebrow at me, and slid into the seat right next to me. It was still weird for her to choose a seat next to it when social expectations didn't call for it. Not as weird as it was to see all umpteen inches of her perfectly toned legs cross next to me. Weird wasn't the best word to describe that, but the other words I could possibly scramble to find made me sound so…not straight. We'll leave it at that.

"Stop looking at me like that, Blondie. You know I gots to do whatever it takes to win. So what, I'm cheating a little to do it. Don't get all judgy about it."

The utter confusion on my face must have looked something like judgment. "What are you…why are you?.." I didn't know how to finish my sentence properly, and thus, I just left it hanging there.

"I have my part of the "Love to Hate" assignment today, and that Breadstix certificate is all mine." _Oh, that's right._I felt rather silly that I had forgotten.

* * *

_"Listen up, kids. There has been a lot of animosity in the environment here lately. Not only in this school, but in this club. This is supposed to be a safe place. We are a family, and I'm so sick of you treating each other like enemies. Next week, you are each going to perform a number by an artist people love to hate. In order to win this challenge, you are going to have to find something you like about this artist, and you're going to have to make the artist likable to the group as well. I have a $20 certificate to Breadstix for the person who does the best job of finding the good in the bad." Mr. Schue explains the assignment with his usual excitement._

_The room hoots and hollers at the mention of the certificate, and most of club jumps up to draw their artist assignment. When Santana draws hers she looks quite disappointed. Mr. Schue looks at her paper over her shoulder and says "guess you'll have to catch the Bieber Fever, Santana."_

_She grimaces for a second, before her expression switches to her one of her trademark cockiness. "You know what? If Trouty Mouth was able to make the Biebs tolerable than I am surely going to be able to bring that sexy back. I'm getting my Breadstix on."_

* * *

I'm so focused on keeping my eyes on Santana's eyes rather than wandering anywhere lower that I don't even notice Puck's approach.

"Hey Sha-Queer-A, listen, I just got this new gig with the INS and I'm going to have to perform a routine bra search. We've received reports that you've been smuggling your immigrant friends into the country under your shirt. Don't worry, I promise to be gentle, but thorough."

If I had thought Santana needed my help, I would have stepped in, but I knew better.

"Firstly, I've had you Puck and we both know that you are anything but thorough. Secondly, your breath stinks like a mixture of Diet 7UP and mediocrity. It's disgusting. Thirdly, I have a better plan, you racist piece of shit. How about you take your sad sack of desperation to your seat, before I destroy one of the grapes swinging between your legs?"

Puck didn't even open his mouth to speak. He did as he was told, and took a seat far from the provider of his verbal beating.

"Gosh, I don't miss being on the receiving end of that." _Oh god, did I say that out loud? _I thought there was an element of sympathy or possibly remorse in the look Santana gave me. She patted my leg with four of her long fingers.

"We'll try to keep it that way, Q." Her smile seemed genuine, and whatever moment we were having was quickly interrupted by a loud and shrill whistle of approval.

"Sexy _mama_!" Brittany's long legs traversed the room in seconds. Santana giggled as the blonde landed in her lover's lap, and Brittany wrapped her arms around the darker girl's neck. They were adorable, whatever they were. Whenever I talked to Brittany about the status of her relationship with Santana, it seemed like a big puzzling mess, but Brittany made most of the things that she would attempt to explain sound perplexing.

All of the other students were seated by now, and it would have been a great challenge to find an eye that was not on Santana. Tina had just smacked Mike across the chest, and Kurt was whispering something in Mercedes ear while making no effort to hide his stare. If Santana could feel the eyes, she didn't seem to care. She gently moved Brittany off her lap when Mr. Schue entered with his standard "let's get this started" clap.

"All right, Santana. Let's see what you got." The curly haired man stepped out of the center of the room, and Santana stood up, retrieving a pair of sunglasses from her cleavage.

_If I was your boyfriend, I'd never let you go_  
_I can take you places you ain't never been before_  
_Baby, take a chance or you'll never ever know_  
_I got money in my hands that I'd really like to blow_  
_Swag, swag, swag, on you_  
_Chillin' by the fire while we eatin' fondue_  
_I don't know about me but I know about you_  
_So say hello to falsetto in three, two, swag_

_I'd like to be everything you want_  
_Hey girl, let me talk to you_

_If I was your boyfriend, never let you go_  
_Keep you on my arm girl, you'd never be alone_  
_I can be a gentleman, anything you want_  
_If I was your boyfriend, I'd never let you go, I'd never let you go_

_So give me a chance, 'cause you're all I need girl_  
_Spend a week with your boy I'll be calling you my girlfriend_  
_If I was your man (If I was your man), I'd never leave you girl_  
_I just want to love and treat you right_

The sunglasses didn't stay on long. I watched her toss them into the "crowd" within the first few lines. The talk singing of the first verse, or whatever it was that Bieber did, sounded far better all of the sudden.

Say what you want about Santana Lopez, but the girl can move. And move she did. She rolled her body in the direction of the audience. Puck had his fist in his mouth, and Mike was studying his shoes as if they were the most fascinating thing in the room. Obviously he was avoiding the incitement of Tina's domestic fury. The muscles of Santana's legs flexed with her every movement, and the lines were redefined in new ways each time. Long, lean, and in control. She had total ease of motion. Her sultry eyes took their time fixating on each and every person in the room. I was definitely lying in the storage room when I told her that I wasn't jealous of anything about her.

The whole anti-gender normative style of the whole thing was erotic. It was almost as if Santana was insisting "you will never have a boyfriend who can do you better than I can." Watching Santana give Brittany her own special chair dance out of the corner of my eye instigated a twinge of jealousy in my gut. It's not like I wanted to be with either of them, right? It would just be nice to be with someone who actually knew how to make another person feel good. That shouldn't be too much to ask.

_Oh for the love of god_, I was her next "victim". As if it could be called that. She positioned her hands on the chair back behind me, her arms on either side of my head. I inhaled sharply, bit down on my lower lip, and laughed softly to cover my reaction. _Why was this making me so nervous? _I'm sure right now that my blush could be seen from space, as I could feel her body heat against me. Her chest was dangerously close to my face. One more button undone, and I'm sure the room would have been on the receiving end of a nipple flashing. It was a real struggle to maintain eye contact when she had her seduction song face on. This woman could _perform. _Boy, could she. I knew she was doing a believable job, because it actually looked and felt like she wanted me. Her eyes were absolutely smoldering, and I'm sure even if I wasn't doing my very best to maintain eye contact, I would have been able to feel them burning into me anyway. She smelled faintly like fresh strawberries. Maybe it was her lipstick, I wasn't sure.

She grabbed one of my hands to playfully place on her hip and she rolled sideways to the next Gleek. She looked just as convincing in her seduction of that bizarre Irish kid. That was a relief? I'm not really sure how that made me feel at all. When she reached the bridge her voice was strong, pure, and powerful. Growing up, she never sang around me unless she was joking around about it. I can't imagine why she hid a voice like that for so long. Even after we joined the Glee Club, it seemed like she almost had to be pushed into the spotlight by those who noticed how good she was. It was strange, not just because she was hiding such a talent, but because Santana was not someone to step away from spotlights. She stepped into them.

I clapped loudly as she finished her number, smiled broadly and joined the room in their loud noises of appreciation. For some reason, I was very glad that it was over despite the fact that she did a great job. I wouldn't be surprised if she won the certificate, although, Mr. Schue may dock points for the risqué factor. Surely, Rachel would do something more PG. _Who was I kidding?_ G Rated, definitely.

Before I knew it, Brittany was pulling me out of my seat by my arm, class was over and she was tugging me out of the room. "Now that you and Lady Biebs are BFFs again you're totes coming this weekend right?"

"Huh?" I asked, not sure why she continued to drag me along when I could walk proficiently on my own. Begrudgingly, my foot was feeling much better thanks to the wrap Santana made me do.

"It's Santana's birthday this Saturday, silly goose. We're throwing her a big shindig at casa la Lopez. Her parents won't be in town, which means we'll be getting our drank on in the hot tub. Puck's getting a keg, and Lord Tubbington promised to figure out how to break into Doctor Lopez's liquor cabinet."

Sometimes I thought that Brittany genuinely believed that her cat could talk. Whatever makes her happy, I supposed.

* * *

On Thursday evening, when I was buried in my Trig notebook, my phone vibrated before sounding off "Me Against the Music". Brittany's ringtone. Because I was in the middle of a problem, I didn't answer. I worked a few hours after school that day, and I didn't have much time to finish my homework before my body was going to force me to sleep. Santana and I actually carpooled to work today. We had a normal conversation and everything. I was starting to come to terms with the idea that things might be okay with us.

After work, however, I was searching for her, and one of the other instructors told me that he saw Santana leave the building over an hour before we were scheduled to get off. I texted her and tried to call her to see what happened/make sure she was okay, but I still didn't get a response. Maybe things were not as okay as I thought they were. I couldn't help but wonder what I did wrong. I didn't want to lose the friendship that we were beginning to build again. In fact, I wanted to get closer to her, and I hoped that she hadn't decided to push me away.

"Me Against the Music" erupted from my phone for the third time. _Three calls? _Despite my sudden sense of urgency, I didn't quite reach my phone before it went to voicemail_. Did something happen to Santana? Is that why she didn't ride home with me? Is that why Brittany is calling repeatedly? _I called Brittany back without checking for voicemails. She didn't answer, and I looked through my phone quickly to find three distressed text messages from my blonde friend.

**"Call me. I need to tlk."**

**"Why rnt you answering?"**

**"Srsly, Im rly upset rt now."**

Since she didn't answer my call, I tried texting her back instead.

**"What's wrong honey? I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone. I'm here now if you need me."**

The response came quicker than I expected.

**"Its fne. I probably shudnt tlk bout it neway."**

**"I'm going to call you and if you don't answer, I'm going to come over to your house."**

That might not be a bad idea anyway. I didn't want to invade her space, but she was one of my closest friends, and I needed to make sure that she was all right. I gave her a minute to read the text message before I tried her number again.

"Hi." Her voice was heavy, and it sounded like she had a stuffy nose.

"Hi. What's going on Brittany?"

"Ugh, I don't know if I should talk about it, Quinn. I'm sorry for bothering you."

"You're not a bother. I just want to be here for you like you've always been there for me. It's only fair." I smiled into the phone hoping that she could feel it.

"Okay, okay, but you can't tell anyone."

"Whatever you have to say is safe with me. You know that."

"Santana and I…have…well we've kinda been having sex for awhile now."

My first instinct was to respond with, _well, no shit, _but that did not seem like a constructive response given how upset Brittany was.

"Okay, did something happen?"

"I had a freak out today, and I basically made her leave work to talk about stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" This was like pulling teeth. I wish she would just come out with it. Come out was probably a poor word choice.

"I told her that things were really confusing for me…she's just not good at talking about that stuff, you know?"

"Mmhmm." I hoped that if I was quiet enough she would just keep going.

"We decided we aren't going to do anymore. The sex stuff, I mean. She thinks that will make things less confusing for me. I guess she's right. I just hate it when things change. When things change people leave, or they get mad, or things just aren't the same, you know?"

I let her just vent. I didn't want to ask her too many pressing questions when I could tell that it made her nervous just to say the things she was already saying. I was incredibly curious though. _Were they never actually together? Was Santana unwilling or unable to talk about her feelings? Were they in love with each other?_

I wondered how long things had been strained between them. I had talked to Brittany almost every day this week about the party. I couldn't tell that anything was off with her. I felt horrible. I must have been too caught up in my own shit. _Some friend._

Almost a half an hour into the conversation I asked, "do we need to cancel the party, Brit?"

"No no no. It's needs to happen and it needs to be awesome. I don't want anything to change."

"Okay, Brit. If you're sure. I'll do anything I can to help."

"I know. Thank you." She whispered her gratitude and just a few minutes later she was asleep and breathing deeply into the phone. Poor thing. For her sake, and partially mine, I hoped Saturday wasn't going to be awkward city. It's well known that alcohol was not conducive to logical, adult, and mature decisions or emotions for that matter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII**

**A/N: My readership for Chapter VII seemed to decline sharply from previous chapters. I'm not sure if that has to do with the holidays or my storytelling. I also received a review that asked if Chapter VI and VII's flashbacks dealt with Santana and Quinn hating each other. To answer that, not every flashback is going to reflect past anger. They are meant to provide context, and demonstrate a journey. I apologize if that is confusing.**

** The reviews really have made this whole process special for me. Please continue to review, and if you like the story and you haven't reviewed yet, it would mean the world to me if you would. If you have any questions or ideas feel free to private message me. As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter :). **

**Santana's POV**

It was that time of night where people were starting to get loose. I was surprised at how many people actually showed up. Don't get me wrong, my house is rockin', but I wasn't everyone's favorite person. Fear must be stronger than love, or everyone here, like me, found it difficult to say no to Brittany. I had certainly been cruel to every attendee at this shindig at one time or another. I thought I was getting better though. People seemed to genuinely want to see me have a Happy Birthday, evidenced by the Jell-O shot that Dakota, a fellow Cheerio, just shoved into my hand.

I took it without a second thought, because it didn't seem as if I was buzzing nearly as hard as the swaying crowd that had spilled onto my large back porch. I promised myself to take it relatively easy on the drinking. Easy for _me_, anyway. I felt like I was really making progress in my life lately, and I knew how quickly a few drunken mistakes could reverse progress.

There had been many changes for me within the past month. Quinn was a huge part of that. I had so much energy for other things now that I wasn't focused on my next insult or biting retort. Some of that freed energy, however, was now dedicated to ensuring that I didn't get too close to her. But, I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy our relationship.

Another big change for me was that I hadn't had sex in over a week. It sounds pathetic, I know, but that is a long time in Lopez land. I had been feeling a shift in Brittany the past few weeks. Her light seemed to be slowly dimming. I wasn't sure that anyone else would notice because she was such a bright ray of light to start, but I definitely noticed. I really don't like to pry into other people's feelings, when I'm not great about talking about my own. That would be incredibly hypocritical of me, but I did ask her a few times. She was my Brittany after all. She would always just brush me off, or start talking about some random dribble, or most frequently, she would just try to get all up on this to change the topic.

When she finally broke down and told me how confused she had been feeling, it shattered my heart. I hated myself for hurting the one person who had always seen the good in me. She was wrong to do so. I wasn't who she thought I was. But, it had been nice to be with someone, in all the forms that we were, without having to hide behind my attitude. Brittany continually saw past my steely exterior.

Until the other night, I thought she, like me, didn't feel the need to define or label what we were doing. I thought we could just enjoy each other. Obviously, she wasn't the simple girl that everyone believed her to be. I was going to do everything I could to keep her from that pain again. This meant that I couldn't get trashed and fall into her cherry scented hair that night. I could control _tipsy_ Santana though, right?

I blinked as Sam pulled his shirt over his head. I had to give it to the boy, he was ripped. I'm sure he made a good chunk of change off of the handsy old lady crowd during his run as a stripper. We had fooled around a couple of times, but of course, it never did anything for me. Didn't mean I couldn't appreciate what he was working with though. Berry of all people, was trying to pull his jeans down to get him into the hot tub.

"Hey Berry, this is a party, so why are you still dressed like one of the bait girls from To Catch a Predator? You best not have broken my two drink maximum rule for you tonight, because if you did I'm sure the Shire is going to miss its favorite Hobbit after I _kill_ you." Drunken Rachel was super touchy and annoying, and I only extended her an invitation because Brittany made me, and Rachel promised to be cool. I should have known better.

Her hands dropped quickly from Sam's zipper, and she shook her head furiously in denial. _Liar. _I disregarded her, because I needed to gets my hot tubbin' on before it was filled with too much sausage.

"Trouty Mouth, get to unzippin'." I commanded Sam. He looked confused for a moment before reaching down to his crotch to finish Berry's work.

"No you idiot, mine." Thankfully, realization hit him, and he freed me from my slinky red dress. His hand lingered just a little too long for my liking on my lower back, but hey, I couldn't blame his drunk ass too much for that. As long as he didn't push it.

I stepped out of my dress and my heels in a few surprisingly graceful movements. The fact that I was left in just my red lacy bra and boyshorts didn't bother me at all. Maybe I _had_ consumed too much alcohol, but most of these people had seen me in all of my bared glory either in the locker room or during our show's costume changes anyway. I wasn't showing them anything new, and the thought of going all the way upstairs just to get into a swimsuit seemed tedious.

"Whoa, what are you doing, Warbler?" Suddenly Blaine was in front of me and Sam and he had one hand on each of our stomachs. I don't know about Sam, but I was a wee bit freaked out. I didn't completely go off, because Blaine's touch wasn't creepy or sexual, it was more appreciative. Not to mention the boy was super gay.

"How do these things happen?" I think he was referring to the muscles of our abs, but I really didn't want to push him for an explanation. Instead I playfully swatted his fascinated hand away, and gave him a forceful hip bump before I stepped into the tantalizing warmth of the water. As I sank down into the much needed heat, my eyes met Quinn's. She was standing against the railing, and although Mercedes seemed to be talking her ear off, it didn't seem as though Quinn was listening. She must have been watching the spectacle. I suddenly felt a slight sense of embarrassment. I didn't care ten seconds before, but now I felt exposed. She twirled the straw in her drink between her thumb and forefinger, but didn't break eye contact. Instead, I was the one to break it, and pulled Sam by his jeans into the hot tub to join me.

* * *

I escaped. _ Finally. _I sat down, hard, and rather clumsily onto the blanket that I kept under the porch for escape emergencies such as this. Well, not really like this. More like when my grandmother was in town and I couldn't handle one more second of her judgmental bullshit. No one ever checked under the porch.

Everyone seemed to be having a great time. I was sure tonight would only do more to elevate my popularity. I wasn't sure I cared. After my hot tub time was interrupted by a messy Giant vs. Hobbit tongue war, I retreated inside to dry off and slip into some jeans. I hadn't even made it down the stairs before Brittany's hands were on me, pleading with me to come dance with her in the living room. Her eyes were glossed over and I could tell that she was a breath away from super lusty Brittany mode.

I couldn't reject her offer to dance, however, and allowed her to spin me around while Kurt belted some Katy Perry song with the music. I couldn't help but smile at my best friend's enthusiasm. She was so cute, and she looked so happy. I had missed seeing her like this. The song changed to some sort of hip hop mess, and the party goers took it as their cue to get their grind on. Brittany was no different.

My breath hitched as she pulled me close. Her hips were not behaving, and her hands were daring me to forget the promise I had made to her. I panicked and I got myself out of there as smoothly as I could with the least amount of damage that I could manage. How? While Brittany's ass was pressed firmly against my crotch, I grabbed Mike from behind me and pulled him against my back. _Sorry, Tina. _

Soon, I made the intimate twosome into a dance challenge. I was able to get out of there before the song was even over with my friendship still intact, leaving the two best dancers at our school to duke it out on the dance floor. I wanted to stay and watch. It was always a sight to see when the two of them got their Stomp the Yard on, but I didn't want to take the risk of those lusty blue eyes turning on me whenever she became tired of showing off.

And so there I was, hiding from my friends at my own birthday party. I purposely left my sexually willing friend upstairs who had no inhibitions and a true dancer's flexibility. _What was I thinking?_ I crossed my legs beneath me, and wished that I had possessed the forethought to bring a drink down with me.

Without warning, a shadow ducked down and below the wood panel in front of me to move beneath the porch. The porch lights were on, but I only had the light that slipped through the cracks of the porch boards to go on.

"Are you yakking down here, Santana?" _Ah,_ I could see who the figure was now, and even if I couldn't, that sweet, soft voice was a dead giveaway. I laughed as she came closer. At least _she _didn't forget her drink.

"Aw, why? Did you come down here to hold my hair back?" I genuinely wondered how she had found me. _Sexy ninja_.

"You caught me. It's what I dream of doing every night." She played with me, and I couldn't stop myself from participating.

"That and my dimples, right?" I smirked at her in the dim lighting and patted the spot next to me on my blanket. She looked good. Most of the others here looked like they were trying too hard, but she didn't. It wasn't fair how effortless her beauty was.

"Are you just naturally able to commit everything to memory?" Quinn shook her head at me and took a sip from her bottle.

"Only when it comes to you, Blondie." I countered and made sure that the sarcasm was evident in my voice when I said it. She took me up on my invitation, and sat down far more gracefully than the plopping I had done just minutes before.

"How long are you going to hide down here?" There was genuine concern in her voice. I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking about.

"Who says I'm hiding?" The look she gave me in response made it very clear that she wasn't going to buy into a feigned explanation.

"Okay, I'm hiding." I admitted, but I wasn't going to give her more than that. I was sure that Quinn knew that something had gone on between Brittany and me, but I wasn't going to pour my feelings out to her.

"And so the legend of the fearless Santana Lopez is no more." She joked, and gave me one of those elbow jabs, similar to the one she gave me in the storage room. "Are you going to tell me why?" She asked when I didn't respond to her teasing.

"No chance, but you don't have to feel obligated to stay down here with me. Even though I know how much you enjoy obligation." In reality, it was nice to have her sitting with me. It was nice to be away from the noise and the expectations, without being alone. Plus, she smelled nice, and she brought beer.

"I know you don't like it when I have to guess, San." That comment made me frown. I wished that she would never reference that conversation ever again. I scooted away from her, and grabbed the beer bottle from her hand to take a swig.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to…" She almost sounded panicked.

"It's fine. Save your eggshell dance for the weak and sensitive." I forced a smile, but didn't make eye contact.

She touched my arm, and it was like I suddenly got the heat flush from all of the alcohol I had consumed all at once, and it rushed straight to my face. I couldn't help but notice that the little blue dress she was wearing was very cute; however, it was a bit shorter than her usual dress length.

"You kept disappearing tonight. I figured you were getting your freak on somewhere." She was trying to get me to smile, but it was too late. I was irritated.

"Fair assumption to make." I snapped, matter-of-factly. _Slutty Santana is slutty. I get it. _

"Where did you go?" She prodded, and her voice seemed to get even sweeter. My senses were dulled by the alcohol but I could still smell the light citrus and vanilla scent that was so very Quinn.

"Down here, obviously." I thought I was ready for her to leave me to my hidden porch times. I was being short, and I knew it, but I didn't have the finesse to deal with what she said properly.

"No, you know that's not what I meant. You're being cold and distant."

"Why did you follow me down here, Q?" I changed the topic, and found her eyes. . Her eyes were more hazel than green tonight. It was something that I had noticed earlier when she first arrived to my house.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right." I could tell that she wanted to say more. I was beginning to get this itching feeling that Brittany told her something. I wanted Brittany to have people to talk to, but the thought of her talking to Quinn about us made me uncomfortable.

"I don't need your concern, Fabray."

"I bet that gets tiring, that thing you always do."

"I'm not one of your stupid boys, Quinn. I don't get tired out so easily." I winked at her, and hoped she would drop it. I realized that her hand was still on my arm, even when she grabbed her beer back for herself, she didn't move her other hand.

"So I've heard." I glared at her then. "Brittany isn't exactly a discrete drunk. Plus during that game earlier, when she answered the 'most orgasms you've ever been given in one day?" question, I knew that her answer wasn't any of the guys' doing." I could tell that she was trying to sound objective, but the element of alcohol in her blood made her sound more impressed than she probably intended.

I blushed, and it was by no means a faint or slight blush. Making sexual comments here and there was my style, but talking about real life sexual encounters with Quinn? That made me uncomfortable.

"I can't believe I left my phone in my purse upstairs. My Captain Santana is blushing, and I can't even get a picture of it!" She teased, and her voice elevated dramatically.

"Hey, watch it. Some fires you do _not_ want to play with." I warned her.

"Blushing and shy? This is just too good." She continued, and the smile was so broad on her face that it made my blood boil.

_That's it. Payback time._ I was not the kind of person to just roll over and take this brand of teasing. Given that her hand was still resting on my arm, I turned my arm over slowly, pulling it closer to me, and thus, bringing my hand to Quinn's. I loosely intertwined my fingers with hers to get the proper angle I desired, and I pressed my thumbnail into the topmost flesh of her palm. I firmly applied pressure, slowly dragging my thumb down the sensitive line of nerves that are bundled in the palm of her hand.

I leaned in close to her face to make sure that despite my intoxicated state, I would be able to recognize the first hint of a blush.

I never saw it.

She turned her head toward me before my thumbnail even reached the bottom of her palm, and just like that, her lips were on mine.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX**

**A/N: Thank you for all of the follows, favorites, reviews, and private messages. I read every single one, and it never fails to bring a smile to my face. Until next time!**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Have you ever had something that you had fantasized about almost your entire life become a reality? Let me tell you, the feeling was indescribable. All of the fantasies and various impossible scenarios that one contemplates just can't compare.

You know you have dreamed about someone waking up one day and just finding you to be so irresistible that they can't stand to be away from you, and they would do anything to have you. You know you have pretended that you suddenly became a drug to the other person, and she just can't resist keeping her hands off of you for one more second. But, as far as fantasies go, a kiss is such a simple thing. Simple, but powerful. It is the foundation of many a daydream or lonely night. Sure, it can be made into this complex act, but in reality, it really is just lips, tongue, and if the mood is right, teeth.

I don't remember how young I was when I first started wishing that Quinn would kiss me, but to be honest, I don't remember life before I didn't wish it. She was my first crush, and my enduring fantasy. That fantasy had transformed over the years from something resembling a perfect romantic relationship to a heated sexual encounter between two formidable opponents. Given our recent change in our relationship dynamic, I couldn't tell you what my current fantasy was. But a kiss was a part of it. A kiss was always a part of it.

Our lips did not crash into each other, and our clothes were not wildly torn off by needy and desperate hands. It wasn't that sort of kiss. But, this kiss was wholly unexpected. What I had expected was for me to make her blush with my attentions to her hand, but I had not predicted that her hips would buck and her lips would find mine.

_My god, _her lips were soft. Softer than I ever imagined. I was lost in an instant. I left no trail of bread crumbs. I did not want to find myself ever again if this was what lost felt like. I would have been surprised, flabbergasted even that this was actually happening, had I possessed even the minimum capacity to think. It was as if for just a moment I only possessed the sense of touch. Every single nerve in my lips was alive and at full attention. No sense of hearing, no sight, no smell, not even taste, just touch. Taste found me a moment later, however, and it was glorious. Why did her lips taste so _fucking_ good when I had just watched her consume a good amount of beer? It must have been the cranberry vodkas she was drinking earlier.

Her fingers locked down around mine, no longer loosely intertwined, as she moved her mouth in a blissful rhythm against mine. After first contact, something inside me just clicked. _This was it. _I needed to make it good, because it was something that I desperately needed to prove to her. I've never been self-conscious about my kissing abilities, or even my ability to get someone to kiss me. Except with Quinn. I just needed her to know that this was my jam. This was my wheelhouse. I needed her to think of how much better my lips were the next time she was making out with some sweaty dude.

So while her lips at first caught mine by surprise, I took control and _kissed_ her. I didn't just brush her lips with mine, or make like a fish gasping for water. I encased her bottom lip with mine and then her top. I caressed her perfectly pouty lips with mine. I added a sweet depth and pace to our movements. She whimpered against my lips, and with that I had confirmation that I had my sense of hearing, although I could feel the vibrations against my mouth as well. _Holy fucking hell. _I didn't think there had ever been a better noise made in the entire history of the world.

It was difficult to breathe. Usually breathing technique was not an issue for me, regardless of the activity. It didn't matter if I was running, singing, or kissing but I was kissing Quinn _Fucking _Fabray, and she tasted like cranberries.

_Fuck. _She managed to surprise me again, but this time it was because her hand was on my shoulder, and she was shoving me down hard against the loose rock that was thinly covered by the blanket. Her hand remained at my shoulder, her forearm, creating a delicious sort of pressure against my right breast. She didn't straddle me, instead, her bare leg rested on my jeaned leg, and she guided our intertwined fingers up and right next to my ear.

_Could she be any hotter?_ I was always the dominating one, but this girl could whip, chain, and handcuff all of my business if she desired. I tipped my chin up to meet her willing mouth, and my tongue begged access to her entrance. It was only too easy; she parted her lips instantly, with a soft moan that sent my lower lips into quite the throbbing state.

The beer that she had placed down into the rock at some point spilled onto my leg. It was a cold and unwelcome sensation, against my otherwise inflamed body. One of us must have kicked it, and with that, I was suddenly in the real world again. I pulled my lips away from hers and hoisted myself up onto my elbows.

"What is…" I couldn't get my next word out because her mouth was on my neck.

"Stop talking." She ordered, and I was _oh so_ tempted to comply. Was I really going to be the one to hit the brakes when the most beautiful woman I had ever encountered was moaning into _my _neck? But, the other more sensible part of me was wondering what sort of game she was playing at. Was this just some sort of twisted scheme to get her precious captain spot back? Was being on top of the pyramid worth that much to her? Lately, I had actually been contemplating asking Coach to let us be co-captains again. It was a ridiculous amount of work for one person, and I could have honestly used her help. That's how far I felt we had come recently. _Christ_, was I an idiot. I had forgotten just how conniving and manipulative this goddess of a creature was.

Just one short month ago, I probably would have just taken her right there below the porch. If she had thrown herself at me, I would have willingly engaged in some _hot_ fucking hate sex, and then I would have rubbed it in her face at every opportunity following. But I really didn't think that I hated her anymore, and that was dangerous.

I escaped from the delicious lacing of her fingers, and pushed her gently away with both hands. "What is this? What do you think you're doing?" Okay, there could have been a better way for me to say that. Was that real desire I saw in her eyes, or were her eyes just reflecting mine?

"I was kissing you." She explained with her slightly swollen lips. Her breath was heavy, and I desperately wanted to mix that breath with mine.

"I think I gathered that, but why?" _Finally_, there was that blush that I was looking for. She could never just give me what I wanted when I wanted it, could she? She looked embarrassed, bashful almost. Funny, it was not a bashful girl who went to work on my neck a few moments earlier.

"You really know how to make a girl feel comfortable, you know that?" She glowered at me sarcastically. "You're really going to make me say it?" _Say it? Say what?_

"Yes, I am." I could pretend to be omnipotent, but regrettably, I had no idea what she was going to say next.

"Uh…you're always making these comments to me about how I haven't had, _well you know_, properly, and I was giving you the opportunity to show me what it was supposed to be like." She stumbled through her explanation, looking down and away from my eyes multiple times before she managed to get through it. She adjusted herself until she was sitting up, and her body was no longer touching mine. _Unfortunately._

Did I hear her right? _Quinn Fabray_ was planning on using me for an orgasm. _Oh my god_, how slutty and sex crazed did she think I was? On one hand, I was humiliated; on the other hand I was hopelessly turned on. What I would have given to be the one to please her. What kind of world was I finding myself in that day_? A world where I actually had a chance of having sex with Quinn Fabray._ I never thought such a world existed. Maybe it didn't. Maybe she was toying with me.

Could I really let that opportunity go? Was the opportunity still there, if it even existed in the first place? The way she was looking at me now, with frustration and uneasiness, I can't imagine that it would be_. God damn it._ Since when did I over-analyze sex?

"Well, I'm flattered, Q, but you're really not my type anymore." Yes, my type was not flawless creamy skin, big beautiful eyes, and verifiably kissable lips. My type was not the hottest girl in school. _Totally believable, right?_ Her eyes narrowed sharply, and there was an emotion in their hazel depths that I could not begin to name.

"But you…" She started cautiously.

"My tastes have evolved since the 8th grade, Fabray. I know it is difficult for you to believe that not every single man, woman, and potted plant wants in Quinn Fabray's pants, but try to respect my lack of interest." Was my nose growing yet? Was she buying this? I sure wasn't.

"You kissed me back, San. I felt it." She was being persistent, and stubborn. How badly did she want this? The confidence that she was displaying was incredibly sexy. God, how I wanted her. _Seriously_, what in the hell was I doing?

"I haven't had sex in over a week, and I'm drunk. You do the math, kid genius." Surely she knew that I wasn't drunk. I definitely wasn't sober, but I was far from a drunken monkey. Was my kiss that obvious? If my kiss demonstrated even a fraction of my desire, I'm sure that it was blatantly obvious.

"Oh well forgive me for taking advantage of your vulnerable state." She stood up abruptly. It was clear that she was pissed now.

I stopped us because I liked her, why couldn't she see that? I was becoming too invested in this friendship to risk it on one night of outdoor sex. I had changed. I couldn't pretend not to care anymore. My friendship with Brittany was already on the rocks. I couldn't take that sort of risk again due to my stupid libido, especially for a straight girl who just wanted to use me for an orgasm. Although if I had my way, I would have given her far more than just one.

The way that she kissed me didn't exactly scream straight, but she was intoxicated, and I was a warm body who had the reputation for pleasing. I couldn't stand the thought of her squeezing her eyes tightly shut and imagining that I was some muscled man with dexterous fingers. _Fuck that._

I jumped up to follow her as she stormed under and out of the porch area.

"Quinn, c'mon." I reached her shortly after she had hit the grassy area of my backyard, and turned her around with my hand on her forearm. "Are you really going to be mad at me for something I can't control?" I repeated her words from our storage room hash out, hoping that it would stop her from shutting me out completely. I really couldn't control my attraction to her; otherwise I would have shut that shit down years ago. But I was lying through my religiously white stripped teeth by even _implying_ that my issue was a _lack_of attraction.

"No." She said simply, the sadness in her eyes was highlighted by the moonlight reflected in them. "I guess not." She finished, and she surprised me for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. She leaned in and brushed her lips against my cheek. "Happy Birthday, Santana." _Fuck you, butterflies._ Was all of that my birthday present? I kicked myself for not unwrapping it.

Before I could say thank you, she had disappeared around the side of the house. I took a few moments for myself, because my calming escape time had turned into quite the mess. A _breathtaking mess._ I dug out a clog of dirt from the manicured lawn with the toe of my shoe, and kicked it as far as I possibly could. The gardener was going to get a talking to for that one. I'd just tip him more when my mom wasn't looking. I took one slow and deep breath before heading inside to see what sort of shenanigans the rest of my friends had gotten themselves into. _God, they better not have broken anything expensive._

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I didn't think that could have been any more embarrassing. I threw myself at her, and she told me she wasn't into it. She must have been really sex deprived if that was how she acts when she isn't attracted to someone.

And that kiss…_fuck_ that kiss. It lasted less than a few minutes, and it was the best kiss I had ever had. I had panicked when she started to speak. I didn't want to waste breath on anything but her mouth, and frankly I had no interest in hearing what she had to say. I was still flushed with embarrassment by the time I made it back to the living room. I doubted anyone would think it was anything but alcohol induced hot cheeks. Despite this terrible feeling of rejection, I was not sure that I would take back what I did. I would have to see how Santana was going to treat me now before I could say if I regretted it. To be kissed just once like that was worth some negative consequences. Not that I would be rushing to tell her that anytime soon.

It's not like I thought that because Santana liked girls, she would automatically be into me. I wasn't that ignorant. So why did I think she would be willing to show me what I had been supposedly missing? She always took every opportunity to tell me exactly how unfortunate my sex life had been. Something carnal just jumped inside of me when she pressed her thumb into my hand. I had never felt anything like that before. If she could make my stomach flip with just a movement of her thumb, what else could she do?

* * *

_A group consisting of mostly Glee kids surrounds the large island in Santana's kitchen. Drinking game time. I usually try to avoid games like this because I don't have the highest tolerance for alcohol, but I am having such a good time that I don't want to be the girl sitting on the outside watching other people enjoy each other._

_"All right, losers, here are the rules. The game is called Personal Question. We each take turns asking the group a personal question, no lame "what's your favorite movie?" shit. Each person, except for the asker, has to either answer the question truthfully or take a big ol' gulp of their alcohol beverage? Got it? Good. I'll start. What color underwear do you have on?" Puck asks the group, and everyone chooses to participate this round._

_The questions get more and more personal as the game progresses, because people are getting braver as their drinks are becoming scarcer. I think my blush is permanent. I'm glad Santana isn't here to see this. She would never let me live it down. She is constantly teasing me for my prudeness. Where was she anyway? This isn't the first time that I noticed the brunette's absence tonight. Brittany is in circle with us, so I know that they aren't drunkenly breaking the promise they had made to one another. Is Santana off sexing someone else? Why did that thought bother me?_

_"How many orgasms have you ever been given in a day? And no, self-pleasure doesn't count, boys." It is Sadie's turn, and she smirks at the cleverness of her own question. She is one of the few non-Glee clubbers currently in our game circle. She works with Santana and I, and I never really took a liking to her. Sadie and Santana taught some of the dance classes together, and she gave Santana a run for her money in the hip control department. I knew a fellow HBIC when I spotted one, and that's exactly who this girl is. She had only been here an hour and she already had all of the boys eating out of the palm of her manicured hand. She is a senior at one of our rival high schools, and that is usually enough of a reason for me not to like someone._

_"Hey, guys are not the only ones who do that." Kurt speaks up, a doofy smile plastered on his tipsy face._

_"Oh, believe me sweetheart, I am well aware of that." Sadie winks at him and I swear if that boy wasn't so boy crazy he would be all over her. A couple of manhands tighten around beer bottles at her response. I think that's why I don't like her. She is nice enough, but she is just too much. She tries a little too hard, and she is always touching Santana and making excuses to be alone with her. Whoa, where did that come from?_

_It's Brittany's turn to answer, and I have to admit, my interest is peaked when she doesn't even contemplate taking a drink instead. "Do I have to count multiple orgasms individually? Because I'm not sure I can do that."_

_Sam interrupts, "Well yeah…"orgasms" being the operative word."_

_"No, I mean like when you have back to back orgasms, without any break in between."_

_"Whoa, wait, that's a thing?" I blurt out, and barely stop myself from covering my mouth with embarrassment after I do so._

_Brittany laughs, and the look she gives me is full of mirth without any hint of condescension. I love her for that. "Yes it's a thing. Um, gosh, I really don't know you guys. I'm not usually focused on counting, and I run out of fingers and toes to count anyway." My jaw drops, and it isn't the only one._

_"I would give you every penny in my piggy bank, and an entire summer's worth of pool cleaning money to watch that, just once. I'd let you shave my head. I would do your laundry for all of senior year. Pretty Please, Brit?" Puck begs, and Brittany throws a handful of potato chips at him._

_The circle's eyes are centered on me before I'm prepared. I reach for my glass to take my required drink. There's no way I'm following that._

_Tina snatches the drink away from the projected path of my hand. "No way, Quinn. You gotta answer this one." Everyone agrees with her, and I glance over at Puck. Thank god Finn is off somewhere with the hobbit…I mean, Rachel. I am not his biggest fan at the moment, but I don't want to humiliate him._

_"Well...um...one, I think." Kill me, now, please._

_"If you don't know, it didn't happen." Oh no, not her, not now. Of course she would enter the room at that moment. She is leaning against the wall nearest to the kitchen's entrance, in her skin tight, off the shoulder red dress. Her and her fucking bare shoulder. She looks like she just ate the canary, so pleased with herself for not missing this. "Aren't you just useless?" She teases Puck as she walks over to punch him playfully in the arm, and I feel like running out of the room, down the street, and in front of the fastest car I can find._

_I put my head down and she's gone before I can look up again. Of course she disappears before she could get roped into playing. Santana is not someone who shares personal details. Thankfully, the game starts to wind down after that, and I'm able to follow the shifting crowd to the porch without much further harassment._

_Oh thank god for Mercedes, she is standing outside, oblivious to the sexually pathetic display that I just made of myself. I wonder how long she had been standing out here. I compliment her outfit, and she smiles appreciatively at me. She was really there for me when I was pregnant, and I'll never be able to thank her enough for that. We're in the middle of gossiping about who we had witnessed making out so far when I hear Santana's distinctive bad bitch tone. Berry's gonna get it. I muffle a laugh at Santana's insults. Sometimes I wonder if she knows how funny she is. I don't want to make Berry feel crappier than she already does, however, because although she is stupid annoying, I really don't bear any ill will toward her. She can have Finn. I have no desire to be under that flopping man child ever again._

_Santana's dress is on the porch before I can finish my Finn thoughts. What the hell is going on? Santana's scarlet undergarments highlight every inch of her caramel skin. Her abs have even more lines than the last time I remember seeing her disrobed. I wish I didn't notice such things. I know that I don't have an awful body, but she makes me want to stay covered up to my chin at all times._

_"How can anyone ever get undressed around bodies like that?" Mercedes whispers sharply in my ear, and for the first time, I notice that Sam is shirtless as well. Oh. She definitely has a point._

_I'm staring until Blaine blocks my view. Absentmindedly, I roll my straw between my fingers. For as cocky as that girl is, sometimes I don't think she realizes when she captivates a room, or in this case, a porch. There is even warmth to her smile as she removes Blaine's touch for her stomach. She could have thrown him into the hot tub, but instead, she treats him with such playful kindness. I've known her for forever, and sometimes, I still don't have her figured out. My line of sight is no longer blocked, and our eyes meet. If I look away, she'll know that I was staring, and it'll seem like I have a reason to be embarrassed. No, I have to keep her eye contact if I don't want her to know that I was tracing her bared body with my gaze. I let out a sigh of relief when she pulls Sam into the tub with her. Mercedes pushes my arm gently to get my attention, and I realize she has been talking to me this whole time. Oops._

* * *

_Not her type?_ Well that was demoralizing. What exactly is her type? Brittany and I are really different, I knew that, but I couldn't help but wonder which characteristics tipped the scale in the right, or in my case, wrong direction. I needed to stop thinking about this. It was going to drive me crazy.

It's not like I wanted to date the girl. I just wanted to be able to feel what Brittany felt. Well, not exactly what Brittany felt. I would settle for one orgasm. I don't think I could handle however many dozen orgasms Brittany had been given in one day. Gosh, did they ever leave the bed? I almost laughed to myself. I knew all too well that the bed was not the only location of their sexual escapades.

"Shot, Quinn?" Tina was pouring before I could give her an answer. _Yes, shot. _That sounded brilliant. I couldn't embarrass myself any more than I already had, and the burning sensation did wonders for my nerves.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Teen Jesus." Santana said appreciatively from behind me, and I glanced around to see what she was referring to. Although the room was loud and busy, I found it soon enough. Brittany was on her back, her shirt lifted to her bra line and Joe was licking salt from around her bellybutton before he lifted the shot using only his mouth from her stomach. Despite my better instincts, I shot a curious look behind me to see how Santana was reacting. She didn't look upset in the least. In fact, she seemed genuinely happy that Brittany was having such a good time. _How fucking endearing of her._

"Attention! Attention, party peoples. Take a break from your humping pursuits and gather 'round. It's time to give the birthday girl her present. Get over here, San-sexy-tana. I promise you are going to _love_ what I have for you." This couldn't be good. What kind of mess did Puck have up his sleeve?

Santana stepped over near Puck rather sluggishly. She looked apprehensive and I didn't blame her. I hoped it was something embarrassing. I needed to see her on the ropes for once.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Puck? I don't want what you have for me." She wiggled her eyebrows at him. Did any of her rejections ever hurt him? You wouldn't know it, if they did.

"Oh you're going to want this, hot stuff." He pointed to one of the heftier football players, and the kid pressed play on the iPod attached to the sound system.

_See, baby_  
_I know you done had your share of girls_  
_I am more than confident_  
_You won't ever have to search any streets for_  
_affection_  
_I got you_

_What kind of girl you like_  
_I know my looks can be deceivin'_  
_Tell me am I your type_  
_My main goal is to please you_

_What's on the schedule tonight_  
_Am I the reason you'll be treatin'_  
_I hope you have an appetite_  
_So tell me, baby, will you come and spend the night_

_My love is like...wo_  
_My kiss is like...wo_  
_My touch is like...wo_  
_My sex is like...wo_  
_My ass is like...wo_  
_My body's like...wo_  
_And you're kissin' it_  
_So what you think of it_

_When will you come through_  
_'Cause I'll be waitin' up right here_  
_Can you bring some Belvedere_  
_So we can pop the cork and cheers_

_Please have no fear Yeah_  
_I just wanna love you right_  
_I hope you have an appetite_  
_So tell, baby, will you come and spend the night?_

_Hold me like you never wanna let me go_  
_If you're likin' what you're tastin' Baby let me_  
_know_

Puck pushed Santana into a chair that one of his other football cronies had just placed in the middle of the living room. She did not look happy, but I could tell she felt obligated to play along.

"I hope you're ready to run…" She threatened him, and his mischievous grin became even wider in response.

"Relax Santana. I had suggested we go all Magic Mike style for you, but Puck had your back and insisted that you have something more your style." Sam shouted over the music in defense of his friend.

Just then, she strutted in, and of course, her strides were perfectly timed to the beat when she did so. Fucking dance instructors. Sadie looked like something straight out of a lingerie ad. Black teddy, garters, stilettos. I tore my eyes away from her rather easily, but I couldn't say the same about the rest of the room. I must have looked at Santana's expression just to torture myself. She licked her lips suggestively, and something red, hot, and angry flared within me. _So this is her type._

I tried to fixate on anything else in the room, but I didn't want to be too obvious that I was purposely not looking at Santana's birthday dance. Why did this make me feel so unwanted? I needed to see a therapist, STAT. Maybe if _I_ had stripped down to my underthings, Santana would have looked at _me_ like that.

This bitch had no shame. I always knew that if Sadie and Santana weren't already messing around, it wasn't because Sadie didn't want to. Oh god, I hope they hadn't fucked all over that storage room. Gross. I felt dirty just thinking about it. The last few weeks, I had thought about that room as our sanctuary. We went through some painful shit in that room, but it had been a blessing. Now just the thought of those two getting it on against the shelves tainted the memory for me.

Sadie tossed her thick red hair back seductively, and Santana's eyes were locked on the movement as the brunette ran her hand through her own silky, gorgeous mane. The slut was straddling Santana now, mouthing the words as she dipped up and down on Santana's lap. Puck was all about this. I could only guess what he was going to do to himself later. _Nasty._ He wasn't the only one though. Even Rachel was cheering Sadie on. Maybe I did dislike Berry after all. In general, the male voices in the room may have been the loudest, but the female voices were actually the crudest. Okay, I needed to retire to the bathroom for a bit.

Just as I was about to retreat to one of the numerous bathrooms in the house, I caught sight of the ginger's mouth disappearing into the nape of Santana's neck. Strangely, Brittany's reaction to this whole thing hadn't crossed my mind until I heard the crash, the very distinctive sound of shattering glass.

_Oh shit._

I turned to see Brit holding a broken beer bottle, and before I could even think of moving to do something, she was lunging over the back of the couch and straight at Sadie. Rachel's high pitched scream cut right through the music. I only had ever heard her scream like that one other time; that day when Mr. Schue was absent from Glee club and Rachel took it upon herself to take over. She was really pushing people's buttons that week, and when she declared that we were all going to help her pick out _her_ solos for sectionals as that day's assignment, Santana lost it. It took the combined force of Sam, Mercedes, and Brittany to hold Santana back as the she cursed threats in Spanish. Rachel screamed that day as if she knew that death was coming for her on incredibly swift and capable wings. She wasn't wrong. Berry had every reason to be terrified.

Santana didn't freeze in place like I did. She moved like she had been specially trained for this. In one swift motion she had pushed Sadie to the side with one arm, moved herself upright, and abruptly stopped Brittany's raised wrist with her hand. The weapon was safely out of Brittany's drunken hand before another gasp could be heard in the room. Santana reached around Brittany to hand the beer bottle to the very shocked Puck. She grabbed Brittany's hand to lead her out of the room, and said in a very grave and no nonsense voice to Puck as she passed by, "Shut it down._ Now_." I shuddered for him out of empathy. The whole scene had quite the sobering effect but I was still drunk enough to admit to myself that the way she handled that whole situation was _extremely_ hot.

The two disappeared from the room as Puck shouted to the crowd. He sure knew when to listen. "Party is over people. Start calling those cabs, and dialing those booty calls! Everybody is out unless you know Santana's middle name, in which case, take a bedroom any bedroom!" It was obvious that he had done this before. Sadie was still standing in the middle of the room, her hand on her chest, attempting, I assumed, to catch her whorey breath. _Oh hell,_ I needed to lie down.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter X**

**A/N: I am ridiculously touched by the amount of support I received for the last chapter. Thank you all so very much.**

**I received a couple questions about the relationship histories of some of the characters. I'm not trying to confuse anyone, but I have left a few past relationships purposely vague for a reason. If I continue writing, you will definitely see why I chose to develop those character relationships in the particular way that I did. For those of you who weren't concerned, I apologize if that whole blurb caused you concern. Hopefully it did not do so :).**

**For those of you who just want everything to come together already, I hope you bear with me and continue on the journey. Feel free to review or private message your frustrations, however, I would love to hear from you.**

**Keep on keepin' on with the reviews. They mean the world to me, as do all of you, my wonderful readers.**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

_WoOoo._ Feeling incredibly woozy, I fixated on the nearest couch, and then I successfully reached my destination despite the room's persistent wavering. _Sweet. _The last thing I heard was Sadie's voice as she argued heatedly with Puck about going home. I eased my body down and sideways onto the couch as the room went splendidly black.

"Geez, Q, how in the hell are you so heavy right now? My Rottweiler weighs more than you do, and I can carry him just fine." _Ouch, _my face hurt. Why was Puck touching me? No, not touching me. _Carrying _me.

"Oh my god, Puck. Let me down!" I kicked wildly until my feet were on solid ground. Are we on the second floor? How did I get up the stairs?

"Will you chill out? I couldn't leave you passed out downstairs, when I'm not sure the house is creep free yet." That would make sense, if I could make sense of anything right now. I still did not want him to pick me up again, and so I lethargically slapped his arm away when he tried to do just that.

"God damn your stubbornness. I'm going to lose my opportunity to Occupy Vagistan downstairs if you insist on making me drag you down this hallway."

"You're gross." I slurred at him. I was using the rest of my faculties to focus on each step of my feet.

"You're not looking so good yourself right now." I thought he smiled at me, but all I could see was bright orange toenail polish. Where were my shoes?

"Which room you would like for Taxi Puckerman to drop you off at?"

"Santana's." I garbled. I was not sure that I was supposed to say that.

"I think that room is full up right now, babe." _Hmm? _Puck sounded funny or maybe I heard funny. I looked up at him with pure confusion. We had paused in front of a door, and he nodded in its direction. I still didn't get it, and he had to assist my head in the rotation it needed for me to see. Santana's door was ajar, and there were two shadowy figures inside of it. Hey, I recognized those shadows. _Hi Shadows._

_Oh no_, my friend was crying. Brittany was sobbing actually, and Santana's hands were on the blonde's face. "Shhh…Shhh…" Santana soothed, as her thumbs brushed away the tears streaming down from Brittany's eyes.

_Thumb._ _Hmm_…I remembered something about a thumb.

"Curtain number two it is then." Puck smirked, scooping me up and away we went. He smelled like a lady. I wasn't even in the celibacy club anymore and I still managed to prevent men from getting laid. _Skills._

I was in quite the comfy bed before my eyes opened again. My taxi had paused in the doorway on his way out. "Hey, Quinn?"

"Mmm?"

"Finn's an idiot, I just wanted to let you know. Everyone can see that. You're gorgeous and he never deserved you."

"Psh…you cheated on me." I waved him away with my hand. _You are dismissed._

"Well, I'm an idiot, too. Plus, you wouldn't even let me touch you over your clothes until Santana took my V-card." Puck and I never had sex. I let him touch me a couple times, but that was it. I just couldn't go through with it. Even if it meant letting Santana Lopez win.

I chuckled and rolled over onto my stomach. "And you turned her into a lesbian." I was out again, except this time the blackness lasted until morning.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

It was Sunday morning, and yet I was up earlier than I normally would be for Monday Cheerio practice. I had barely slept, and when I did, it was exceedingly restless. Puck woke me more than once with his pained outcries from my kicks and elbows. I know what you are thinking, but I didn't sleep with him. Well, I slept with him but I didn't _sleep _with him.

After I finally was able to get Brittany down, refusing more than one sloppy advance as I did so, I couldn't stay. Even if she didn't wake up during the night to try and get up on me, I didn't think cuddling with her all night was a good idea. _Fuck,_ she _was_ trashed. I was so busy hiding from her that night that I failed to prevent her from getting absolutely plastered. _Stupid. _I wasn't sure that she would have actually done anything to Sadie, but the whole thing freaked me out in any case. I must have really hurt her. Of course, I hurt her. I was _fucking_ Satan.

It didn't take me long to find Puckerman, after I had carefully slipped out of my room and down the hallway. Whenever he crashed here, he always chose the room with the biggest TV. My mom's room.

I didn't want to be alone, and I needed someone to keep me honest, not that I was going to tell him anything, of course. I just had thought if someone else was there, I wouldn't sneak off to do something I shouldn't be doing. _Like Quinn._ He was flipping through channels with a sexually frustrated/constipated look on his face when I leapt onto the bed next to him. We fought all the time, but the douchebag was always there when I needed him. I didn't have to say anything. He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed without judgment or question.

I made my rounds throughout the house that morning, and thankfully, I recognized every slumbering body that I found. On the other hand, a squatter would have offered me the perfect target that I needed to release some of my pent up aggression. Instead, I went from room to room with my mother's lemonade pitcher full of ice water and an armful of red solo cups. I would deny it if anyone saw me, but hangovers sucked, and the sooner these jerkoffs felt well enough to drive, the sooner they could get the hell out of my house. One cup and two pills for each snoring body I encountered. Not all of them were fully clothed, mind you. I definitely saw Tina's pale bare ass when I found her draped over Mike in one of the guest bedrooms. I felt a stab of real pity for our cleaning lady, and so I made a mental note to add extra tip to her paycheck as well this week.

The second to last room on my adventure was my own. I was surprised to find Brittany sitting upright and rubbing her eyes when I pushed through the door.

"Hey." I greeted her softly, pouring her a cup of water and handing it to her right away.

The pain etched on her features was not an emotional sort of pain. _Poor thing._ Still, it was a relief to find her face absent of the hurt that had tortured me that entire night.

"When did I go to bed?" She asked with bloodshot blue eyes as if she was just inquiring about the daily temperature. Admittedly, this wasn't the first time one of us woke up without remembering the entirety of the night before.

"Two, maybe?" Honestly, I didn't have a clue. She popped the pills that I placed in her open hand without comment.

"What's wrong, San?" She rubbed her temples slowly. I had said three words since I entered the room, and she already knew something was up.

"You broke a beer bottle in half on the kitchen counter, and then you proceeded to try to shank Sadie Brooks with it." I purposely chose not to sugar coat this for her. I couldn't baby her right now. She needed honesty. Whatever we were doing before was what got us here, and she needed to understand that.

"Oh, well that's weird." Her stare was blank, but I knew she was processing. "Are we okay?"

"Hell, yes, you kidding me?! We'll always be okay, B." I answered her without hesitation and, as always, I meant it.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

_E_w, what was that smell? It was stinging inside of my nostrils in the most brutal fashion. The stinging was almost as horrible as the little elves in my head who were currently attempting to hammer my brains into tiny pieces of cookie mush. I stretched my hands to feel out my surroundings, too afraid to open my eyes when the sunlight was already burning my irises through my eyelids. My left hand found bare skin, and my eyes flew open in panic, I practically caught air when I sat up. _Tequila Pores. That's what that smell was._

"Ahh!" Brittany screamed and threw the phone that was in her hands directly into my bottom lip.

_Horrible start to the day._ Now my lip had joined the chorus of throbbing. Brittany, aka Tequila Pores, was staring at me as if I were some rabies infected rhino or something. I searched my memory in desperation, and was met with an incredibly foggy image of Puck hovering over me in this very bed.

"Oh no…oh my god…did we have a threesome?!" I was never, ever, drinking again.

"We?" Brittany asked, as if that was the most pertinent question.

"You, me…and Puck." I shook her shoulders, hoping that a meaningful answer would somehow fall out.

She giggled, and then winced slightly at the non-stomach friendly motion. "If so, I would hope Santana would have bothered to mention that to me that when I woke up in her bed this morning."

_Santana. _That particular memory was not even remotely foggy. _I kissed Santana last night. Jesus Christ. _I started hyperventilating and Brittany pushed a red plastic cup into my hand.

"You're nuts! I'm not drinking that!" I gasped at her, and whatever I had said apparently earned me a full belly laugh apparently.

"It's just water, dork. Santana gave me one for you before she sent me in here. Rumor has it, that I went apeshit last night like one of the Boondock Saints in a bar brawl. Only, you know, with breasts and a fancy headband. Santana thought it would be better if I came in here with you for a while until more people had left. She thinks last night will increase my hallway street cred, but I'm pretty embarrassed."

I smiled at her sympathetically. We had all done stupid things while drunk before. _Like kiss Santana. _I was kidding myself. I knew all too well that I had not been drunk at that point. _Shit, _if Brittany had found us under the porch would I have been the one who charged at with a shattered beer bottle? I shivered at the thought. Did I regret it yet? I guessed the jury was still out on that one.

"Oh crap, I wasn't supposed to tell you that the water was from her. Our secret?" She lifted her hand, pinky outstretched, and I squeezed it reassuringly with mine. At least the water gesture meant that Santana probably didn't hate me. But, she wanted it to be a secret, so did that mean that she didn't want me to know that she didn't hate me? Why couldn't things just be simple? _Wow, _I could have really screwed everything up last night. _I very well may have._ I wouldn't know until I saw her again.

_Wait, _Brittany woke up in Santana's bed? _A little slow to that realization, Quinn. _That was one way to calm down a homicidal maniac, I supposed. I couldn't believe that after everything that had happened last night Santana would go and fucking sleep with Brittany again. And by everything, I meant the whole Sadie almost dying thing. At least, that's what I was going to try and convince myself of. It was easier to be angry at Santana for hurting Brittany than it was to be angry at her for rejecting me.

"Any idea why you acted like that last night?" I prodded carefully.

"Bah, I don't know. I mean we weren't dating so it's not like I'm dealing with a break up or something. And I knew that she was having sex with other people that whole time anyway. I don't know what got into me. Maybe I freaked out because that Sadie girl could have something that I couldn't have anymore? That's really just a guess, or maybe I was possessed by the gangster ghost of Cheerio past. Who knows?" I leaned forward to hug her and held my breath while I did so. She did _not _smell good.

"Brit, I love you and everything, but you really need to shower, and I need to get going. Call me if you need anything or you need to talk." I scrunched my nose at her again. It turned my stomach to inhale her body's response to last night's debauchery.

"Oh shit, thanks Quinn. I'll see you tomorrow at school!" She skipped out of the room without even the slightest hint of a wounded pride. I was envious of that. As for myself, I wanted out of Santana's house as soon as I could manage to do so. I was definitely and unequivocally relieved that I didn't have a threesome with Brittany and Puck, but that didn't mean that I was ready to face Santana after what had happened just a few short hours before.

If only I could rewind back just a _couple_ times to that kiss before erasing it entirely. By a couple, I meant a few. Okay, a _dozen times, tops._

I hurried into the bathroom that was attached to this particular bedroom and splashed some cold water on my face and then finger brushed my teeth with the toothpaste that was resting on the vanity. I could barely look at myself. There was a _rough_ reflection staring back at me. I put my hair up into a not so high pony and started my retreat out of the house.

I wish I didn't care if Santana saw me like this, but that was an issue for another day. I froze at the top of the steps when I heard a conversation. No, not a conversation. _Singing_. I recognized her voice instantly. _My god. _It's not even that the noise hurt my head, (miraculously it didn't), I just couldn't handle being around her. How long could I hide at the top of the stairs? Puck's voice harmonized with Santana's and it was then that I realized that two of the biggest badasses at McKinley High School were actually belting "A Whole New World" from the Aladdin movie.

Her voice _was_ beautiful, even while she is cheesing it up with a Disney song. I didn't think that I had ever told her how I felt about her voice. Today was certainly not going to be that day. If I hadn't been so desperate to disappear, I would have video recorded that shit for blackmail. In the meantime, I needed to depart with some small portion of my dignity intact.

I knew it was a failed escape attempt before I even reached the landing of the stairs.

"Well if it isn't Tweedle Drunk, and Tweed…hey, where did you leave Tweedle Drunker?" Puck jogged over to the landing to greet me. _Yup, _it _was_ in fact possible to be even more embarrassed.

"In the shower."

"Hot!" Puck grinned, and it was almost contagious. Almost.

Santana didn't even look my way as she danced in front of the stove to the soundtrack that was playing. I was a breath away from resigning myself to an awkward encounter when she smiled over her shoulder at me.

"What do you want in your omelet, Q?" I probably could have screamed in frustration at the sight of her. Her hair was down in soft waves and she was bouncing around in a black tank top and grey and pink booty shorts_. Fucking booty shorts._ I looked like I had just emerged from the sewer after bidding a fond farewell to my rat friends, and she, of course, looked like she had just stepped out of every teenage boy's wet dream. Okay, girls' dreams, too.

"Um..." I bit down on my bottom lip in contemplation, but her attention turned on Puck instead.

"I will beat your ass if you let the hash browns burn, _pendejo." _She warned him, flipping over something that I couldn't see in her pan. "You can drool over her prettiness later, Noah, but not during my kitchen time." He made a whip motion with his hand before hurrying back to one of the other stove tops and I laughed genuinely. He knew he was in trouble when she used his first name.

_Did Santana just say I was pretty? _I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my face. Giving up on my dreams of circumventing the whole situation, I made my way over to the breakfast bar. While Santana yelled out impatiently for Mercedes to come get her food, a loud **_smack_** captured my throbbing head's attention. By the smirk on Puck's face and the exasperated shake of Santana's head, I was sure that Puck had just slapped her ass. Hard.

"You're going to lose that hand one of these days, Puckerman."

"I'm counting on it, Jasmine."

The whole scene was unfamiliar to me. Santana seemed playful, warm even. And she was making food for everyone? _What gives?_

"Don't skimp on your salsa for mine, you know how I like it hot." This apparently wasn't the first time Santana had cooked for everyone. Gosh, how much had I missed out on just because I said one crude word in eighth grade?

Okay, I realized that it was a bit more complicated than that, but I was feeling bitter. _I_ was always supposed to be Santana's best friend. That spatula should be in _my_ hand, not Puck's. _I _should be the one on the receiving end of those familiar and affectionate glances. That should be _me_ smacking Santana's ass…_oh wait, that didn't, god damn it_.

"Nope, I'm sure of it. 'A Whole New World' is d_efinitely _about anal sex." Puck nodded, agreeing with himself while an approaching Mercedes spewed her water all over the breakfast bar, and my back. _I didn't think it was possible, but my day just got better. And by better, I mean worse. Yay backwash on my back._

"Good morning to you too, Mercedes." I grumbled, and was feeling too aggravated to even look up when Mike and Tina joined us in the dining area as well.

Santana slid a full plate in front of me, and I realized that I had never told her what I wanted in my omelet. I wondered if she cooked for the women she slept with. _Ugh_, why was that even crossing my mind?

"Don't worry, it's better than my mom's, I promise. We'll see if I remembered it right." She winked at me, unintentionally sending a delicious chill shooting down my spine. That's it, I was convinced; this woman did not possess a single awkward cell in her entire body.

There was no way that Santana remembered what Mrs. Lopez put into my omelets years ago. I mused that I should probably stop making assumptions, because all too frequently lately, I felt like I was just getting to know her. I was correct in the storage room when I said that she was a completely different person than the girl I grew up with. This woman…well, to be frank, I was really beginning to realize how incredible she was. The act that she put on for me for the past three years wasn't her. The real Santana made sure all of her friends had water and pills after a rough night, she sang cheesy Disney songs while she cooked breakfast for everyone, and she protected her temporarily homicidal companion from the party stragglers who threatened to make the girl feel even worse.

She couldn't hide from me anymore. _I saw her_, and something deep inside of me never wanted to look away from her again.

Speaking of seeing her, Santana had just leaned forward to rest her loosely crossed arms on the breakfast bar, and her full chest was also in a state of rest, only on her forearms instead. I wondered what she was doing there just a mere few inches away from my face. I realized that my fork was raised, and I had been but a moment away from taking a bite when her eyes…and, okay, admittedly her body as well, stopped me in my tracks.

"I didn't poison it, but if it makes you feel better, you can have Puck take a bite first." She smelled like fresh coffee, cinnamon, and some kind of tropical fruit. _Really? Gah,_ _did she even drink last night?_

I forced myself to emerge from my Santana stupor in order to take the bite that was waiting for me on my fork. It felt like a memory in my mouth, only Santana's version was so much better than what I remembered.

It was delicious, and I was absolutely positive that it contained every ingredient that Mrs. Lopez had used for my omelets.

I had always figured that Santana pretty much survived on take out and Coach Sylvester's shakes, because her parents were always gone and she was constantly left to fend for herself. Instead, she had taught herself how to cook, and obviously, had done an amazing job at it.

As of that moment, while I watched Santana glance down at my lips to gauge my reaction to her creation, I realized that did not regret the kiss. At least, _not yet_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter XI**

**Santana's POV**

For a day in late spring, it was unusually cold outside. Due to the stubborn chill, I was tempted to actually participate in the drills that I was running. From the way the girls were huffing and sweating, I was confident that they were not feeling the bite of the wind.

It was one of my most favorite times of the year. _Spirit Week._ And no, not spirit as in cheering for some hapless buffoons.

Every year there were two Powderpuff games at McKinley. They were all out female flag football battles between the classes. Freshmen vs. Sophomores and Juniors vs. Seniors. Historically, more people attended the Juniors vs. Seniors game than all of the football games combined. Our football team sucked so that was understandable, plus, who wouldn't want to come out to watch a bunch of fit and popular girls ramming into each other? If I had my way, we would play tackle instead of flag, and no, not for any perverted reasons. I always played with my male cousins growing up, and there was just something powerfully awesome about being able to tackle someone to the ground.

I had always been an athlete. My parents allowed me to do every sport that was available to me when I was younger. Eventually, I narrowed my interests down to gymnastics and soccer. I probably would have stayed with soccer, if Quinn hadn't been so focused on becoming a Cheerio. She begged me to go to all of those stupid cheer camps with her, and of course, I relented. After our fallout, I worked my ass off to become the best of the best, and to become the Cheerio that Quinn had always dreamed of being.

In truth, I hated clapping and cheering on our hopelessly terrible players while nasty men in the bleachers leered at us, but I absolutely loved competitions. _We _were the champions. Those sad excuses for athletes should be cheering us on. More than a few idiots have tried to claim that Cheerleading is not in fact a sport, and they could not be more wrong when it came to the Cheerios. We were athletes, gymnasts, and competitors.

I blew my whistle to signal the girls to stop running in place and to drop down to the flat of their stomachs. There was more than one groan to be heard as the girls jumped back up again to continue running in place.

Half of the girls were mine for now, and the other half were running blocking drills with Puck and Sam. We were required to have two football players as our "coaches", and of course, Puck was all too eager to volunteer. Weeks ago, I had asked Sam to fill the other position, because I thought he could help keep the master of perversion focused on the game.

Quinn was kicking some major ass during this exercise. She was always close to being the first one down and the first one up. I knew that football wasn't really her thing, but this was about more than football. This was about the ruling class. In the entire history of Spirit Week, the Juniors had never beat the Seniors. This year was going to be different because we were different. High schoolers were always waiting until Senior year to be on top. We didn't have to wait.

We stole the throne a long time ago, and this game was going to be just one more example of our utter dominance. Quinn understood that, as did the rest of the Junior Cheerios and some of the female athletes who were out there with us on the field right now. I loved how much effort she was putting into these drills with her tall red and white Cheerio socks, and her little Yale hoodie.

I tore my eyes away from her bouncing body, and sounded the whistle three times to indicate that the drill was over. With each passing day, it became more and more difficult to keep my eyes off of her. I had thought things were bad before our mini-makeout sesh under the porch, but now it was almost unbearable. Since my birthday, I had made every effort to avoid being alone with her. I would make an extra Cheerio or two stay after practice, I never left Glee practice without my arm linked with someone, and at work, I allowed Sadie to follow me around like the needy sex dragon that she was. In a group, I was safe, and our friendship seemed to continue on a steady incline that way.

I never mentioned what happened under the porch that night. Not to Quinn, not to anyone. She hadn't made an effort to bring it up to me either, but my careful planning could have played a role in that. As things stood, I had been able to kiss Quinn Fabray without any consequences. Well, external consequences anyway. Internally, it was all I could think about.

I wasn't even sure if she remembered it. Puck had told me that Quinn was a drunken mess that night after Brittany went all Clockwork Orange. Maybe Quinn had been far more intoxicated than I had realized. That would explain so much. It was the least complicated explanation, and it was the easiest to rationalize. That didn't mean that part of me wasn't disappointed. What was I even disappointed about? Even if she hadn't been plastered, she didn't want me. She wanted what she thought I could do to her. It was just a flash in a horny pan, and I needed to get over it.

But _god, _she was gorgeous.

I shouted for my team to start on pushups. One girl, one of the basketball players I thought, remained standing as everyone else around her dropped down obediently.

"What do you think you're doing, cameltoe?" My words were piercing. I didn't have time for rebellion that day. It was our last practice before the game the next day, and we needed to make it count.

"I'm done with this. Why should we all kill ourselves while you just stand there acting like you have something to teach us? You're just a stupid cheerleader." She even had the audacity to put her hand on her bony hip while she challenged me.

One by one, all of the other girls slowly stood, but it wasn't in support of the basketball player. In fact, they all took a step or two back, as if they wanted to avoid getting splattered with any blood that may have resulted from the altercation. My Cheerios, by far, looked the most apprehensive. Brittany was the one exception, and she stepped behind the unfortunately fated girl.

"_Run_." Brittany whispered urgently into cameltoe's hair.

I stepped forward, and wouldn't you know it, the bitch flinched. Wordlessly, I dropped straight down to my hands, bent my elbows until my chest was practically touching the lawn, and I launched myself upwards. I was airborne, and before I hit the ground, I clapped my hands together and then returned my hands to the field. Five clapping push-ups later, I popped effortlessly up and onto my feet.

"Here are your options, WNBA, you can either finish out these drills as the most enthusiastic person here, or you can get the fuck off of my field. Your choice, basketcase."

Just as I expected, she was on her toes and hands in seconds.

* * *

I was feeling confident when practice wrapped up an hour later. I knew that I ran those girls harder than the Senior Powderpuff Captains ran theirs.

Plays were running through my head as I walked around to retrieve cones from various parts of the field. I couldn't believe that I let my safety in numbers plan fall by the wayside.

"Hey, you did a great job today, San. They won't even see us coming." A genuine compliment from Quinn Fabray, I was living in the Twilight Zone. I looked around, _fuck_, everyone was leaving and I was on the 10 yard line alone with the girl that I could only manage to handle myself around if I was in a group.

"Thanks." I gave her a half-smile as I reached for the next cone.

"Yeah, um, could I ask you something?" If I didn't know her better, I would say she sounded nervous. Oh god, I really didn't want to have the "sorry about my drunken foolishness" conversation right now. I never needed to have that conversation. How wanky would it be if I just sprinted toward the parking lot right now?

"Sure." It was just one word, but I felt like it was a word capable of opening quite the awkward can of worms. She hesitated, and I stood up to meet her eyes. Her eyes were a conflicted shade of hazel. _If you're going to say it, just spit it out. It was a mistake, I get it. You're not a "lesbo", we've been over this. _

"…I think I can get to the ball, but I'm really worried about being able to catch it. Would you be able to stick around and help me for a bit?" Puck or Sam would have been a much better choice, but I wasn't half bad at receiving. Still, I could have sworn that what actually came out of her mouth was not what she actually wanted to ask.

I agreed to help her despite my better instincts. A few times, I tried to get her to pass the ball to allow me to demonstrate, but she was only able to throw the ball out of bounds or directly into the ground. Instead, I made a fool of myself acting out how to position her body properly and what to do once the not-so-pretend ball was in her hands. She was careful not to laugh at me too hard, which I appreciated.

I showed her what she should do once she had control of the ball to avoid getting her flags torn off. She seemed totally focused on me the whole time. There were points where her total focus caused some unease within me. I appreciated how hard she was working, but her determination stare, if that's what it was, was just a little intense.

"So, this is what my stance should be?" She had just successfully caught the ball, and was remaining completely still for me to analyze her "technique".

"That was good." And it was. Quinn was not a slow learner. This may not have been her forte, but you wouldn't know it. I jogged forward, reminded of the whistle that was still around my neck as it bounced on my chest with my movements. Once I reached her, I guided one of her legs back slightly and adjusted the positioning of her torso with my hands on her shoulders. I remembered the last time I had placed my hands on her shoulders, and how violent her reaction had been to my touch. _Oh, how far we had come._

"You could make a minor adjustment, but really, you'll be fine. Make sure that you tuck the ball in as soon as you catch it. My father always said that the only thing more embarrassing than missing a great catch was dropping the ball once it was yours."

"That could double as relationship advice, I'm sure." Quinn laughed at her own joke, and I joined her, consciously dropping my hands from her shoulders. If it was relationship advice, my father gave it unintentionally. He was far from a relationship expert whether it was romantic or familial.

"I'll be sure to send the memo to all of your exes." I needed to filter. I was getting too comfortable with her. I tried to seem as casual as possible concerning what I just said, and spun the football in my hands.

"…did you just call me a great catch?" Disbelief was written all over her pretty little features, as she hooked her thumb into the waistband of her shorts.

"As if I would ever so willingly feed that ego of yours, Fabray." I deflected and prepared to throw the ball again, motioning for her to start running.

* * *

The coaches and captains met in the middle of the field for the coin toss. We all looked fierce with our thick strips of black face paint under our eyes, and our no nonsense red black and white jerseys. Puck had his arm out and locked on Sam's shoulder, and I curled my hands under their arms to grip, crossed my ankles, and proceeded to pull myself up and then down again. I glared unblinkingly at the other team as I did my human pull-ups. We had planned for this weeks ago.

"Lopez, cut that out. I'm not having intimidation games on my field today, got it? Now Senior captains, heads or tails?" Coach Beiste was our referee today, and she was definitely taking it seriously. Seniors called heads and we loss the toss. I jogged back with my Powderpuff co-captain, Whitney, a volleyball player, alongside our coaches to meet our team. _Game on. _

The girls were pumped, and I couldn't have asked them to give any more energy than they already were giving. They were a bunch of snarky, smack talking animals, and I loved it. Against Brittany's initial protests, I had positioned her on the line. The whole school knew about her "cut a bitch" episode, and I decided to channel that fear into something productive. Every time we lined up, the girl opposite of Brittany was wincing before the ball was even snapped.

Before my birthday, Quinn and I were the feared and intimidating ones. Whenever the Unholy Trinity strolled down the hallway, the masses parted like the Red Sea, because of _us_. Brittany was feared only by association. Even at the low points of my relationship with Quinn, Brittany was always protected by the full force of both of us.

Brittany was her own force now, and possessed her own fearsome reputation. Not only was she a member of the Unholy Trinity, but she was unhinged and unpredictable, and rumor had it, she had a locker chocked full of various unconventional weapons.

Mercedes was also a force to be reckoned with on the line. She had caused two injuries before the first half was even over. I could not have been more proud.

But, Quinn, she was my star. She didn't drop a single pass. I scored two touchdowns, and one turnover, but it was Quinn who caught the game winning throw. Before our recent friendship developments, I would have done anything to get the game winning catch. Instead, I blocked for her to be able to catch it, and then I stopped anyone from inhibiting her charge to the goal line.

It was worth it to see that smile. The one in a million ecstatic Quinn Fabray grin. Her mouth was open and she was practically showing every single one of her perfect teeth to the world. The cheers were deafening. This was a victory for the entire junior class. We were legends.

After jumping up and down for a few moments, her eyes locked on mine. It had been a rough year for Quinn. She had lost Captain, lost a baby, and lost Finn to the Hobbit. I had to give this to her. I would do it a thousand times over again just to see that smile.

She squealed and ran to me, her body slammed against mine, stealing my breath, and my balance. She almost took both of us down, swinging her arms around my neck and her legs around my ass. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her tightly to prevent her from falling. This is the closest thing to a hug that we had experienced in three years.

Her scent washed over me and I closed my eyes, allowing myself this brief moment in time, before we were rushed by the rest of the team. The spectators were also flooding into the field, but she had captured all five of my senses.

"Thank you." She sighed contentedly into my neck. She knew what I did for her, and here I had actually thought that I was being sly about it. I set her firmly on the ground before the first round of people hit us. After that, although we were swept up into the celebrations, I kept finding her eyes in the crowd. Until her family reached the field anyway. Her mom, dad, and older sister surrounded her with pats, smiles, and hugs. I was sure that not a single one of them ever knew about Quinn's pregnancy.

When I was much younger, I used to search the bleachers, the audience, or the sidelines for my parents. I didn't even bother to search anymore. Instead, after a few crazy hugs, and many a congratulation, I tried to push my way through the crowd and off of the field.

I saw a flash of red before the next hug hit me. _Sadie. _

"That was incredible. I always knew you were a badass, but that was just _beyond_." She was still hugging me, and I have to admit, I was flattered. Someone actually came here to see me. The thought lifted my heart slightly. I pulled out of the hug, and my eyes briefly found Quinn's again. She was walking off of the field with her parents' arms around her, and she was looking back at me over her shoulder with a quintessentially Quinn unreadable expression. _Strange._

* * *

I was lying on the hood of Puck's jeep, reclining against the windshield. I had his sound system turned up to a soft roar of Mumford & Sons while I closed my eyes to drum my own unique rhythm on my thighs. I wasn't in the partying mood. Sure, we had made McKinley history by beating the Seniors senseless, but I wasn't on the high that I expected to be.

My mom had called me shortly after the game. Not to see how it went, or check in with my grades, but to tell me that she wouldn't be home again for at least another month. I didn't want to go home to an empty house again.

After the game, it felt like everyone had family rushing them on the field. I was a national cheer champion, and on my way to becoming a national glee champion as well. I was engaged in a battle with Quinn to be number one in our class. And yet, with all of that, neither of my parents had attended an event of mine since high school started.

Half of our class was down the path at the huge bonfire that Puck was hosting in his backyard, but here I was lying beneath the stars and trees where he had parked. I felt like the better I became as a person, and the more people actually started to like me, the more time I spent alone. Well, the more time I _wanted_ to spend alone.

She found me again. _Sexy ninja. _ How did she keep doing that?

Quinn was wearing a purple baby doll dress that only served to make her eyes stand out even more. She swept her hair away from her face as she approached. I sat up slightly, and ceased the drumming on my legs.

"Why did you stop?" She asked, emerging from the line of the trees.

"Stop what?" _Why did I stop kissing you on my birthday? No idea._

"What you were doing with your hands. It sounded good. I don't know why you keep your drumming such a secret from everyone. It's about time someone knocked Finn out of that drum set seat." She sounded so sincere. This whole complimenting each other thing was still really new to me. She sent my heart racing with just one stupid comment about my hand drumming.

"Some things I just like to have as my own." _Now wasn't that the truth._ She perked an eyebrow at me, and placed her hands on the hood.

"So, I've noticed." She smiled at me, and rested one of her metallic flats against the tire. Her eyes were sweeping up and down the hood as if she was trying to figure out how exactly to join me. I wish I didn't feel the urge to play this cool. If I were smart, I would have headed back to the fire and the drunkards.

"Put your foot there, and take my hand." I suggested, and she did just that. For once, Quinn actually did as she was told, and her hand felt cold but soft in mine. With a couple jerky movements she was seated next to me, smoothing her dress down with her hands. _Oh no_, I could tell she was working up the nerve to say something.

"San?" She said it so quietly that I almost didn't hear it over the music.

"Yeah?" Sometimes I felt like the one word wonder around this girl. I should have shut this conversation down as soon as I felt it starting.

"I'm really happy that things aren't weird between us after…your birthday party." She breathed and looked down at her hands that were now placed carefully in her lap.

"You realize that by mentioning that it isn't weird, makes it weird, right?" My eyebrows swept upwards, and I braced myself for whichever way she was going to take this conversation.

She chuckled nervously. "It doesn't have to be weird." _What did she mean by that? Of course it has to be weird._

I turned my head to look at her, the skepticism apparent on my face. "All right, may I ask you something then?" If she was going to bring this up, then there was something that I needed to know.

"Of course. Anything." She couldn't have meant that. Her breath was quickening.

"This." My fingertips grazed her chin, touching the fading bruise on her bottom lip. Quinn's eyes darkened and I could barely stop myself from caressing those lips with mine again. "I didn't do that to you, did I?" I had been wondering that since the morning after my birthday when I was watching her take her first bite of omelet. Her lip had looked swollen, and I didn't remember being that rough.

"No…it was Brittany." She shook her head, and because of the shake, it took her more than a beat to see the horrified expression on my face. _Worst. Nightmare. Ever_. "Whoa, no, not like that. She hit me with her phone." Quinn recovered, and I felt so relieved that I almost laughed. That was an image that I was not going to be able to get out of my head for quite some time, and it made me want to vomit.

"Oh, good." I responded simply, hoping that the whirlwind of emotions that I had just experienced were not desperately apparent on my face.

"As if you are capable of such a thing." _What was that supposed to mean? Capable of bruising someone's lip? Capable of being rough? Oh, please._ She had no idea.

"How would you know what I'm capable of? You've never even had an orgasm. You're a sex unicorn." I needed a change of subject. Badly.

"No, what I _said_ was that I have never been _given _an orgasm. I have _had_ plenty."

That was the hottest thing that had _ever _been said, I was sure of it. What did Quinn Fabray think about when she was getting self-busy? What I would give to be able to see that. _Everthing. _ Usually girls denied that they ever masturbated. It was doubly hot that not only did Quinn do it, but she was willing to admit it. _Ugh_, I honestly hadn't thought that I could have wanted her more than I already did.

"Oh." _One word wonder, to the rescue!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter XII**

**A/N: As many of you have noticed, Sadie Brooks continues to pop up whether or not she is wanted. For visual reference, I picture the actress Rachelle Lefevre when I write her.**

**The reviews are outstanding. I'm grateful for every single one. For those of you who review as guests or do not allow PMs, I'm giving you an extra shout out of gratitude because I am unable to convey it over PM.**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Oh how the Celibacy Club President had fallen. I liked this version of her much better. But, as much as I wanted to spend time thinking about Quinn's masturbation techniques, this was not the appropriate time to do so.

"So what are you doing hiding over here with me, Superstar?" I inquired, genuinely wanting to know.

She was royalty right now, and all of the attention she could ever want was back at the bonfire waiting for her. I didn't understand why she was out here just sitting with me on Puck's jeep.

"Superstar? I know what you did for me, Santana. That pass was yours." Quinn had lost some popularity ground after getting demoted in Cheerios, after the pregnancy rumors, and after Finn left her. She was still Quinn Fabray, and that meant she remained one of the most popular girls in school, but this, this elevated her back into the clouds where she belonged.

I chose to ignore the fact that she didn't really answer my question.

"Are you cold? You seem cold." I changed the subject, flashing my knowing smile, and swung myself over the windshield and into the front seat. She had started to shiver once the "weirdness" conversation started. It was understandable given her dress and thin white cardigan.

She laughed at me as I climbed back over the windshield, handing her my Cheerio sweatshirt.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" She bit the inside of her cheek, and pulled the sweatshirt over her head. Save for the name on the back of it, she had a matching sweatshirt, but there was still something about having this girl wear something of mine that made me feel warm inside.

"I really don't think that 'ridiculous' is the word that people normally use to describe me." And it wasn't. I tugged one of her sleeves down that had rolled up while she was trying to put the sweatshirt on.

"I like to be original and "bitch" is just too easy. In any case, you don't seem like you want to be here, Santana. Do you want to just watch a movie with me instead?"

She had me there. Bitch _was_ too easy, I didn't want to be there, and I would have loved to be doing anything, movie included, with her instead. She looked down when she made her invitation, and I wanted to just say yes immediately. However, I had been avoiding being alone with her for weeks and it would be foolish of me to willingly agree to do so. But hey, this was the second time I had been alone with her in two days, and I wasn't attacking her face or blurting out how incredibly sexy she was. I could handle this, right?

"Sure, but I did tell Sadie that I would DD for her. I'll just need to see if she wants to leave now, or if she wants to get another ride." I had invited Sadie to the celebration party after she had showed up to the game. It only seemed right when she was the only person that came to support me. She was in a wild mood, however, and I just wasn't up for it. Within two minutes of getting to the bonfire she was already going shot for shot with Puckerman.

I knew that Quinn had carpooled here in Mercedes' car, which meant that if Sadie was ready to head out, I was going to have both women in my car at once. This was only an issue because the two of them were constantly snapping at one another. On the bright side, Sadie seemed like she was in quite the rager mood, so it was doubtful she would be ready to leave.

At least I didn't have to worry about Brittany that night. She had family dinner after the game, and then was spending some time with Artie. The two of them seemed to be hanging out a lot lately. It was weird, not because Artie was in a wheelchair, but because he was such a dork. He was in the AV club for Christ's sake. But, Brittany did have a dorky element to her personality. Her light seemed to be brightening again, and that made me very happy.

I missed her though. She used to stay at my house with me almost every night, and now we were still in this awkward place trying to redefine our friendship. I missed the sex, too, of course. In the end, however, it was better to be alone every night rather than cause her any further pain.

"Shall we then?" Quinn responded, and I slid off the front of the hood, reaching for her hand to help her down as well. This was going to be an interesting night.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

_Hey friend who I'm just starting to get close to again and that closeness is easily the best thing that has happened to me all year, how about we go cuddle up alone on a couch somewhere? I know, I know, it might be a little weird because now that we're not sworn enemies, I'm realizing not only just how great you are, and that I find myself wanting to be around you all the time, but that I may be attracted to you as well. I don't know what that means, and I haven't fully come to terms with it yet, but it's there and I would be foolish to deny its existence._

_I do know that it bothers me that I'm "not your type". I do know that seeing Sadie hug you on the football field made me want to yank her by her hair away from you and onto the ground. I do know that I felt home in your arms for that brief instant near the end zone. I do know that I get butterflies when you smile at me, and when you make your perverted little jokes. I do know that now that I'm not on the receiving end of your venomous beratements, they kinda turn me on. I do know that when you so capably demonstrated the extent of your athletic prowess the past few days, I couldn't help but think about how utterly capable you would be in bed._

_I know that I feel safe for the first time in three years. Not safe from how I feel about you, of course, but safe from anyone who would try to harm me. You were always my protector when we were little, whether I needed it or not. No one ever made fun of me for my braces, because of you. I was only ever pushed down on the playground once in my entire life because of what you did to the kid after he did it._

_I don't know if this makes me gay or bi or just not straight. I do know that this feels different than anything I have ever felt with a guy. I do know that I want you to want me. I do know that although I'm going to work to make this friendship last, if my dresses are a bit shorter around you, and my makeup and hair always happen to be perfect, it __**is**__because I have ulterior motives. I do know that I plan to find out what it is exactly that you like. I can't imagine trying to kiss you again after the rejection I suffered last time, but maybe, just maybe, I can get you to kiss me._

My inner monologue filled the silence as we moved through the woods to the bonfire. Santana looked back at me a handful of times as if to check on me. It was rather cute. My eyes traveled more than once to her tightly jeaned ass as we walked, careful not to get caught when she would look back. Her sweatshirt smelled like her tropical fruit perfume and her lavender detergent, and I felt like I was blissfully wrapped in her scent.

The voices became much louder once we arrived into the clearing that lead to the bonfire.

"Here comes my sweet ass MVPs!" Puck bellowed. I know he had taken it upon himself to take many of the shots that were meant for Santana and me. "I can't believe that you two were off making out without me." He stood on a log dramatically, and I found myself hoping that he didn't fall forward into the fire.

I opened my mouth to deny it, but Santana, of course, got to it first. "Aw, Puckerman, don't be jealous. You'll always be my little spoon."

"That was just one night! And I only let you do it because it was your birthday!" His defense only served to hurt any case that he might have had.

The fire circle erupted in laughter. It was clear by Puck's tone that the spooning did in fact take place. _Hmm…so Santana __**didn't**__ sleep with Brittany that night._

As the faces illuminated by firelight became more and more clear, I could distinctly feel one pair of eyes burning into me. If eyes could start fires, the Lopez on my back would be in flames right now. Sadie's eyes were flickering between Santana, and the name on the back of my sweatshirt. Her jealous gaze gave me a sense of smug satisfaction.

Santana was hugging Puck and a few others goodbye. In the past, many people would have given a sigh of relief when Santana left a room or a gathering. But that night, no one seemed ready for her to leave. Mercedes was giving a pouty face, and a couple of the Cheerios were trying to bribe Santana with liquor.

When Santana reached Sadie, I could finally feel the girl's eyes leave me completely.

"I'm going to head out. Do you still want a ride or do you want to catch one from someone here later?" Santana asked the redhead, glancing down at the beer in her hand briefly.

I didn't think I had ever seen anyone nod so quickly in response.

"No, I'll go with you. I'm ready." Sadie dropped the can from her hands, and her arms snaked around Santana's waist. I wanted to headbutt her. Santana smoothly removed her arms, taking one of the ginger's hands to lead her in the direction of the car. When I followed, Puck decided to get whiny.

"You can't leave _and _take the two hottest girls here with you, Lopez. That's just not fair. You're totally killing the party if the three of you leave."

It was then that Sadie noticed that she was not traveling with Santana alone. To say that she didn't look happy would have been an understatement.

Santana dropped Sadie's hand before we reached the car, but the contact still lasted longer than I would have liked. Sadie sped up her high heeled strides, clearly to get to the front passenger seat before I could. Her intoxication was clear by the sporadic stumbling I witnessed on her way to the car.

To the bitch's chagrin, Santana opened both of our doors before sliding into the driver's seat. I purposely met Santana's almond eyes in the rearview mirror as many times as possible on our drive to Sadie's house.

Sadie was obviously unhappy, but she was not giving up. Santana's car was a stick shift, and Sadie was continually trying to keep her hand on Santana's no matter how frequently brunette had to move it around. Obviously frustrated, Sadie tried Santana's leg instead. This was getting really irritating, especially with the lack of verbal stimulation in the car.

"Why don't you take Fabray home first?" _Slut. _Sadie had realized that we were heading in her town's direction, and decided to be extra forward.

"Quinn and I live down the street from each other." Santana answered simply, and turned up the radio in the car. Why was she foregoing a night of what would be crazy sex just to be lame and watch a movie with me?

Sadie gave Santana's leg a purposeful squeeze on the way out of the car, and looked back in disappointment on her way into her house. Good riddance. _Welcome to the curb, bitch._

I quickly made my way to the front seat, and the smile Santana gave me made me melt.

"She's pissed." I commented on the obvious as Santana backed out of the driveway.

"She'll get over it. I told her she could stay at the party." Santana shrugged, and my gaze briefly fixated on the flex of her hand on the gearshift.

"We're going to my house, right? I'm guessing your parents haven't suddenly become cool with late night visitors."

I laughed. "They don't care about girls, but if we could avoid them entirely, that would be great." Although, they probably would care about Santana if they knew about her sexual orientation. My parents were never huge Santana fans anyway. I was pretty sure it was because they were a little racist, and because Santana was always taking me out of my comfort zone which, of course, was far outside of theirs.

"Consider them avoided." Santana smiled at me again, and hit the accelerator.

* * *

We had decided on Pan's Labyrinth because Santana had been so excited about it, and I had never seen it. We were seated on opposite sides of the same couch, but our feet were up and pointed toward one another's, and we were covered by the same large blanket.

It felt so good to be back in her house again, and not just for some huge party. It was strangely quiet, however, without Mrs. Lopez scurrying around the house at all times of the night making sure we had everything that we needed.

"When is the last time your mom was home, San?" I mustered the courage to ask during a part where there wasn't any dialogue for me to read.

"I don't know. She was here a couple days in March or something like that." Whoa. That was at least two months.

"Don't look at me like that. It's great. I can do whatever I want." I didn't buy it. Mrs. Lopez was never heavy on the rules in the first place. That's one of the many reasons why this home had always been such a sanctuary for me. My parents were the exact opposite.

On the other hand, I loved Mrs. Lopez and it really hurt when she wouldn't let me know what was going on with Santana.

I couldn't reach Santana with my hands, so I tossed a small pillow at her instead. _Comforting, right?_

"What the hell?" She caught the pillow and kicked me lightly with her foot.

"I thought you needed a wakeup call that it is just us here. You can cut the 'I'm so tough and independent' shit." I didn't want to be on the outside with everyone else anymore. I wanted to be her person again.

"Or…I could go get ice cream." Santana hopped over the back of the couch with a smirk, and returned a few minutes later with a pint and two spoons. I threw my head back in feigned exasperation. When she returned, she sat right next to me.

"Hey you didn't have to pause it. I've seen this a dozen times." Santana frowned when she looked at the screen, pushing her first spoonful into her mouth.

"You're kidding yourself if you think I'm going to watch this freaky movie on my own. I'm already going to have nightmares, Santana. Nightmares." I emphasized. It was true. I could see why this movie fascinated Santana, and I didn't hate it, but it really freaked me out.

"I've got you, Q. Just don't draw any doors on the walls tonight. If you're staying that is." She responded so nonchalantly, but my heart still jumped. The prospect of staying over with a friend should not feel like such a big deal.

"You have a really strange way of asking a girl to stay over." I remarked playfully. I was so in.

"Good thing you're easy." _That fucking wink._ I couldn't even get mad at her when she looked at me like that.

"Fuck you." I retorted without any real malice, and any attempt to look angry was negated by my smile.

"Sorry, Quinn. It's not that kind of sleepover."

* * *

**Santana POV**

After I finished putting away the ice cream, and turned off the electronics, I headed upstairs. It had been a successful evening so far, and I hadn't made a complete fool of myself yet. I was actually having a great time. Six months ago, if you had told me that I was going to have a pleasant night in with Quinn Fabray, I would have told you that you were a moron.

I had already told Quinn where she could find pajamas, but for some reason, I was not expecting her to be disrobing in the middle of my room when I entered it. Her bare back was to me, thankfully, so she didn't get to see my not so suave spin to turn around immediately to face my dresser.

My hands were shaking on the knobs as I pulled out the drawer. If she was going to be so blasé about stripping down in my bedroom, then I had to act like I didn't care as well. That didn't mean I was going to turn around for even a second while I pulled down my jeans, and pulled on my pajama pants. We've undressed around each other countless times, but not alone and in my bedroom in the middle of the night. Not since eighth grade anyway. I exchanged my t-shirt for a tank top. Turning around once I was clothed, I found Quinn already under the covers in my bed. _Holy Fantasy Land._

"Uh…" _One sound wonder. Even better. _Why did this have to be so awkward? It was fine for high school friends to share King sized beds. Probably not fine, when I wanted to do far more than just sleep in that bed with her.

"Just get over here Santana. Don't make it weird." It was as if she knew that I was going to suggest that I sleep in a guest room. I hated that she could read me so well sometimes.

"You're just the weirdness expert lately, aren't you?" I took a deep and hopefully not too visible breath, and crawled under the covers with Quinn.

"That's my side you're on, by the way." I challenged, rolling over to face the beautiful girl in my bed.

"I guess you have three options then. You could just deal with sleeping on that side, you could fight me for this side, or you could join me over here." Her smile was coy, and I moved my face closer to hers. What game was she playing at?

I swore her eyes flitted down to my lips, as her lips parted slightly. I wanted to take her, right then and there. My lips were warmed by her breath, and I prayed that she couldn't hear my heart beating loudly in my chest.

Instead of taking her obvious challenge, I rolled over to force myself to fall asleep.

"Just keep your hot ass on your side of the bed." I _was_ ridiculous. _Ugh, _the only reason I would want her to stay on her side of the bed, would be if I was straddling her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter XIII**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Quinn stayed over multiple times that week. It was almost as if she knew how lonely I was without my mom or Brittany being there. The days where she couldn't, or I couldn't, find some excuse for her to stay over were rough. It was difficult to fall asleep without her.

Junior Prom was going to be here very soon, and I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I wasn't dating anyone, and the one person that I would want to ask was straight, unfortunately. In any case, I couldn't imagine Quinn Fabray going to the Junior Prom with a girl. Sadly, I couldn't think of anyone else that I wanted on my arm that night. I was in trouble.

Puck had made a couple jokes about us going together, and I know that if I asked, he would be my mohawked gentleman all night. Well, as gentlemanly as he was capable of being. Puck and I had an interesting relationship, but we would easily step in front of charging bulls for each other. I loved the kid. It would just be nice to go to a dance with someone that I actually liked for once, you know, in that romantic way.

Brittany was going with Artie, and even if she wasn't, I couldn't take her to prom. I feared that would only confuse her. We hadn't had sex since she told me that things were confusing for her, and we also hadn't been anywhere near as close as we were before that conversation. If we went to Prom together I feared we would just be back to square one, and I had worked so hard to get to whatever square we were on now. But, I couldn't just not go. One I loved to dance, and two, I was nominated for Queen, and I had to show.

I had already won Junior Homecoming Queen, and to be honest, Junior Prom Queen wasn't of great interest to me, but I couldn't be a total bitch to the people who had nominated me and just not attend.

I had received a few unsavory offers. More than I had ever had in the past, actually. I must have been doing something wrong because it seemed like I was suddenly becoming more approachable.

Puck was looking like my best option before Kurt shyly asked me for a word with him after Glee that day.

"Okay, fancy pants, what's going on?" I asked him curiously, crossing my legs in my Cheerio uniform. I had yet to vacate the plastic choir chair since practice was over.

I calmed my stare when I noticed how obviously nervous Kurt was about whatever it was that he needed to talk about. He sat next to me and crossed his legs in a similar fashion to mine. He was such a pretty man, and I mean that in the most flattering way possible.

"I want to go to prom." He blurted.

I threw up my hands and shook my head. "Whoa, it's a little late for you to be going hurrying back into the bedazzled closet, don't you think? And if you're trying to fool people into thinking that you're not on Team Gay, going with me is definitely not going to work."

"No, that's not…I want to go with Blaine." He stuttered, and that did nothing to resolve my obvious confusion. I liked Kurt. He was a little self-centered, but most high school students were, plus he was brave as all get out. This town was not an easy place to be with as much of a unicorn as Kurt was.

"Okay, so why are you talking to me about this? I don't care if you go all Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi to the Prom. All the power to you, porcelain." Was he asking me permission to gay it up? That would just be silly. I really didn't understand what he wanted from me.

"He's scared, and well, so am I. With everything that has happened to me this year, I'm worried about what will happen if we go together." He did looked scared, and it made me want to go toe to toe with anyone who had ever made him feel that way.

"Everyone knows you fly the rainbow flag, Kurt. The fabulous cat is out of its equally fabulous bag."

"I know. I just thought that things would be better for us if we weren't the only gay couple there. Especially if you were the one to go with a girl, you know? Most people are afraid of you, and you're popular, and you're a prom queen candidate. If you went with a girl, then people would see that it was okay." He said it all with such hurried earnest.

I felt my expression soften. Due to my status, or whatever it was, when news spread as to my lesbian tendencies, I didn't receive much flack for it. I knew Kurt had experienced a much rougher time than I did, and a rougher time than I probably could imagine.

"I'm not dating anyone right now, Kurt, but you know what…I'll do my best to find a lady date. Okay?" I had to do this for him. We may not be best friends, but we were family.

He hugged me with such ardor that I couldn't help but hug back. I pulled back when I heard a sniffle.

"Thank you, Santana. Thank you." His thank you was so authentic.

Bless his heart; he looked like I had just given him two backstage tickets to a Liza Minnelli concert.

"This stays between us, Kurt, but if anyone tries to give you an issue at Prom or any other time, you come to me okay?" I was serious. I would mess them the fuck up.

He full on started to cry now, and I gave him a one handed hug as he went in for another embrace. I really hadn't thought about making a "gay is okay" statement at Prom this year, but this was important to Kurt. I had been very fortunate so far with my "coming out" journey, and if I could ease that journey for someone else, I needed to do so.

Well, _fuck._

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

The last few days have been amazing. Sure, Santana still hadn't kissed me, but we were spending so much time together lately and that was great. Before, I had felt like she was purposely trying to avoid being alone with me for some reason, but now I could see that I was wrong. This morning I had even woke up with Santana's arm around my waist. That was progress.

I could feel a presence behind my locker when I shut it, and I had hoped that the figure would be a fiesty, but secretly sweet, Santana. _No luck._

"Oh hey Sam." I greeted him and his bleached blonde hair, and tried not to show the disappointment that I felt.

"Hi Quinn. Do you have a minute?"

"Sure." I knew things had been rough financially with his family as of late, and I had done everything I could to help him. As had Santana, although she insisted on being more of an invisible helper. Heaven forbid anyone discover her giving nature.

"I've been scraping together as much money as I can, and although it won't be extravagant, I would really like to use some of that money to take you to Prom. Would you go with me?"

_Oh. _I paused before responding.

He was currently the first string quarterback, and he was cute, sweet, and had a hot body. He wasn't super bright, and he didn't give me butterflies, but he was everything that a Cheerio set on Captain would want in a date. Why was I hesitating then?

The person that I was currently developing feelings for would never ask me, and honestly, I wasn't sure I would or could say yes if she did.

I was definitely going to Prom. I had a solid chance at Junior Prom Queen, and that had been a dream of mine for a very long time. I already had a dress, but no one that I could even see myself enjoying myself with had asked me yet. _Until Sam._

"Yes." It was all I could squeak out. Why wasn't I more excited? Sam was the perfect date. He would be a gentleman, and he wasn't totally hopeless in the dance department. I knew I was going to be the envy of many of the girls in the school, and yet, I couldn't bring myself to get excited about it. I forced my best enthusiastic smile.

"Really? That's great! Let me know what color your dress is so I can get my bow and your corsage to match."

Maybe his excitement was starting to be contagious. His big lipped smile was rather endearing. I squeezed his arm as he spun around, clearly trying to contain his eagerness.

* * *

News of Sam's Prom proposal hit the blogosphere before lunch had even started. I had about a dozen girls, including Brittany, approach me to tell me how lucky I was. It was starting to sink in. I didn't know why I had bothered to give the proposal even a second thought. Sam was the perfect choice.

I sat down with Brittany and the other Cheerios at lunch, and they couldn't stop gushing about where Sam and I were going to have dinner and what shoes I was going to wear. Santana was remarkably absent. I kept checking the cafeteria entrances, waiting for her to make her appearance.

**Where are you? I snuck some tots past Coach's spies, and I am willing to share ;).**

I texted her after ten minutes of waiting for her to make her appearance. Now that our friendship was on the mend, I really looked forward to our daily lunches.

**Eat up, Blondie. You could use the extra calories.**

I smiled at my phone despite her avoidance of my question. The last few weeks she had been all too willing to tell me that I should not be wasting any time worrying about my weight or eating habits.

"Does anyone know where Santana is?" I decided to ask my knowledge packed table since Santana was choosing to be elusive.

"I saw her duck into the auditorium on my way here." Dakota answered, and with that, I excused myself, leaving my tator tots for whoever was starving enough that day from Cheerios workouts to consume them.

I entered the auditorium quietly. I was unsure as to what would be going on in there, for all I knew, Santana was getting it on with a random on stage, or maybe she was meeting with Coach to go over formations as they sometimes did in the auditorium. She was on stage, I was right about that, but she was not having sex. Well, except the natural penetration of her voice.

There were barely any stage lights on, and the theater was otherwise dark, but I could still see her clearly.

_There are worse things I could do,_  
_Than go with a boy or two._  
_Even though the neighborhood thinks I'm trashy,_  
_And no good,_  
_I suppose it could be true,_  
_But there are worse things I could do._

_I could flirt with all the guys,_  
_Smile at them and bat my eyes._  
_Press against them when we dance,_  
_Make them think they stand a chance,_  
_Then refuse to see it through._  
_That's a thing I'd never do._

_I could stay home every night,_  
_Wait around for Mr. Right._  
_Take cold showers every day,_  
_And throw my life away,_  
_On a dream that won't come true._

_I could hurt someone like me,_  
_Out of spite or jealousy._  
_I dont steal and I dont lie,_  
_But I can feel and I can cry._  
_A fact I'll bet you never knew._  
_But to cry in front of you,_  
_That's the worse thing I could do._

There wasn't a musical coming up, and I didn't know of any Glee assignments that would involve Santana singing this song. But _wow_, she was singing it as if the audience was full, instead of there being just one person hiding by the back corner exit. Her voice shook when she sang "And throw my life away, On a dream that won't come true", and part of my heart broke for whatever feeling she was channeling in that moment. _She was breathtaking. There I said it. Santana Lopez was drop dead gorgeous._

Despite the fact that I felt like I was imposing on a very private moment, I couldn't move. I was mesmerized. I wanted so desperately to slip inside that guarded mind of hers and figure out where all of this pain was coming from. One thing I was sure of, if we were ever to do Grease, Santana would make the perfect Rizzo.

* * *

Santana didn't say one word to me for the rest of the day after I sneaked out of the auditorium. For Cheerios, she had always been a fierce leader, but today she seemed to be pushing us even harder than usual. Unprecedented, she earned more than one compliment from Sue regarding her enhanced aggression.

My legs were shaking, as she made us run another ridiculous set of formations. I was sweating profusely, and not only was I not feeling cute, but it also didn't seem like she was going to let up any time soon.

_And that's when everything went to shit._

I was coming down from a lift, and the idiots almost dropped me. I was literally a finger width away from getting my head slammed into the ground. We were better than this. Sure, we were all tired, but we shouldn't have been that sloppy.

"Griffin, sidelines, now!" Santana growled, and many of the Cheerios were no longer shaking from exhaustion, but fear. The girl who had screwed up the catch quickly ran to meet her Captain. Coach Sue didn't say a word, obviously impressed by her lead Cheerio's attitude.

Santana handed Coach the megaphone and jogged over to our group.

"Quinn, you're going up again, and this time, we're not going to fuck it up, okay?" She directed, and despite my nerves, I followed her instructions. After the mess up, which admittedly was partly my fault, I was not too eager to do it again.

Except this time, all too capable and strong limbs caught me. They were in stark contrast to the other arms. Even if I hadn't known the positioning, I would have known exactly which arms were Santana's. I came nowhere near the ground. _Why did the mere feel of her arms on my back give me butterflies?_

"If you can't do that Griffin, than you don't deserve to even launder our uniforms, got it?" My group guided me safely to my feet, and Santana sauntered powerfully away. I had no idea what was up my Captain's butt, but it felt nice knowing that she was there to catch me.

* * *

Exhausted from practice, I barely made it to work on time, I had fallen asleep fully clothed on my bed, and it was my mom who had found me and pushed my groaning ass into the bathroom to shower.

My every muscle seemed to ache as I walked past the front desk in the direction of my classroom. I passed by one of Santana and Sadie's classes, and I immediately regretted glancing inside. By looking at the energetic brunette, you would have no idea that she ran a ridiculous amount of laps with us today. They were demonstrating the Samba to a group of awkward middle schoolers, although there was nothing awkward about the demonstration. _Fucking sexy Samba._

I walked back to my painting class and attempted to put the image out of my mind. I was grateful that I didn't have to close that night, and that soon I would return to my soft and comfortable bed.

I knew that Santana was teaching drums after Samba, and I had hoped to catch her after she was done to figure out what her issue had been earlier.

As I turned the corner to enter her room at the end of her class, my eyes were immediately drawn to her in all of her stunning glory, the drum stick spinning effortlessly between her fore and middle fingers. _Lucky drumstick._

Just as I opened my mouth to announce my presence, another voice rang out from beyond my peripheral vision.

"Of course I'll be your date, Sanny. I'll even let you pick out the lingerie that I'll wear under my dress."

_Sanny. Yuck. Slut. _In the whirlwind of the past few weeks, I hadn't given much thought to who Santana would be going to Prom with. Sadie was very open, too open, with her sexual fluidity, but Santana had plenty of options. I had no idea why she would go with that bitch. She was really pretty and everything, and smart enough, and could dance like nobody's business, but still, she was a total ho.

I hid on the other side of the doorway in hopes that I wouldn't be seen before I speedily made my way to my employee locker.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter XIV**

**A/N: I'm going to address some questions that I have received about how "out" Santana is, and also about the relationships between some of the other characters.**

**Santana hasn't had a coming out party or big announcement or anything of that nature, but she doesn't hide who she is, and most people know due to the wonderful phenomenon that is word of mouth.**

**This is an AU, which means the Prom pairings do not line up with the show. For example, Rachel is still with Finn, and Artie is taking Brittany to the Prom.**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I cradled my head in my palm, elbow on the back of my chair, absolutely, positively apathetic concerning the current Rachel Berry Glee practice spectacle that was going on in front of me. Santana had been sitting by me almost every day, until the day I saw her belting "There Are Worse Things I Could Do" in the auditorium. Today she was sandwiched between Puck and Kurt, the latter being an odd choice for her.

Part of me was incredibly irritated about the Sadie thing. She still hadn't told me that they were going together to Prom. I mean, I hadn't told her I was going with Sam, but that was different. I was sure she knew about Sam, not to toot my own horn, but the whole school did. We were the Junior Prom candidates to beat now that we had joined forces.

She hadn't made a single effort to hang out with me since that day, and I couldn't help but think that she was too busy having sex with Sadie to spend time with me. _Why was I being such a girl about all of this?_

Sam was timidly trying to touch my hand with his. I knew he wanted me to hold his hand, but I really, undeniably, was not in the mood for it.

If Santana were to look over at me just then, I would have looked completely whacked out. I was glaring at the side of her face as if doing so would allow me to discover the secrets locked carefully inside her brain. Outside of cheer practice and the necessities at work, she hadn't said two words to me. We went from sleeping in the same bed to hardly being acquaintances. She wasn't being awful or rude to me; she wasn't being anything to me at all. It was like I didn't exist. It was so much worse than being her rival. At least as her arch enemy, she acknowledged me.

"We tried the whole RuPaul drag display last year, and we needs ta try something new, Mr. Schue. The judges obviously are not connecting with the one woman Yentl show." Besides the overtly uncouth name calling, I knew the rest of the room agreed with Santana. I nodded in agreement despite my current conflict, or whatever it was, with her.

Rachel was predictably wounded and dramatic, slamming her hand over her heart with a thud. The rest of the class was a blur of arguments and debate that I just didn't have the heart to participate in.

"Are you coming Quinn?" Before I knew it the room was emptying, and Sam was loyally waiting for me.

"She'll be right with you, Guppy Face. I'm gonna need a minute with your Prom date." Sam shrugged off Santana's insult, and I waved him off when he gave me his "is this okay with you?" look.

"What do you want, Santana?" My tone was more biting than I would have liked, but hell, I was aggravated.

"Whoa, Fabray. What flappy fish has flopped its way into your underwear today? Actually, don't answer that, I'm well aware of your preference for Trout."

I was fuming and it was all I could do not to give her one of my genius slaps.

"Sam's a good guy." I blinked away from her eyes, collecting my books to leave.

"I know, and I'm happy for you, but I'm not here to talk about Macaulay Culkin." She just didn't quit, did she? She was suddenly all smiles; clearly we did not catch the same crazy train this morning.

"What are you here for then?" I rubbed the top of my eyebrow with the flesh of my palm, attempting to sound aloof. I hated how much I had missed her during our recent separation.

"Will you meet me in the Senior parking lot tonight?" She handed me one of the notebooks that I had forgotten during my quest to seem uninterested in her presence. Her fingertips brushed, and I could have sworn, lingered near mine as she pushed the notebook onto the pile in my hands.

"Why the hell would I do that when you've been ignoring me for days?" It was a fair question. I didn't need a friendship that I couldn't depend on. Not with Santana. Not with anyone.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?" She tilted her head, as if she knew that if I made eye contact with her for too long, I would lose all resolve to be angry with her.

I glared at her in response. _How's that for eye contact?_

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. There's been a good reason for it though. Let me show you, tonight?" She stroked my wrist lightly with her fingertips, a wrist that she had once held in a vice grip during our storage room encounter. _I was fucked._

How was I supposed to say no that smile? Also, Santana apologized about as often as I failed to ace an exam, and that was very rarely. Without my consent, anticipation began to bubble inside of me.

* * *

Save for the parking lot lights, it was pitch black outside when I pulled up to meet Santana for our mysterious rendezvous. I was far more nervous than I felt like I should have been. _Why did Santana have to be so god damn vague all the time?_

Santana was leaning against her car looking like a spread straight out of Cosmo for Latinas, with her dark jeans, and blue long-sleeved pullover sweater with a low V-neck. I was still mad at her, but damn, she looked _good._

"You have ten seconds." I called to her, slamming my driver's side door shut. I was angry, it was cold, and all she could do was give me that sideways look with that _fucking _smirk.

"I can do _a lot_ in ten seconds, Fabray, but I guarantee you'll want more than ten." I wasn't sure that truer words had ever been spoken, but screw her if she thought I was going to buckle that easily. _Well, not screw._

"Times-a-ticking, San." _Bravo, Quinn. I'm sure that breath hitch was completely unnoticeable._

She took my hand and guided me in the direction of the school's south gymnasium that was currently under renovation. Damn her if my hand in hers didn't feel so much better than it did in Sam's. So much so, that I didn't even bother to tell her that her time was up.

"What are we doing here? I don't want to get in trouble." I have my rebellious side, but I'm still part goody two-shoes at heart.

"Q." Santana turned around to face me, and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me."

"Trust you? I don't know who you are right now, Santana. Are you the person who slept with my boyfriend freshmen year, are you the girl who forced me to wrap my foot in the back room who made fun of my pregnancy, or are you the Powderpuff captain that let me score the winning touchdown? Who is it tonight?" I was fed up. She couldn't just do this. She _knew_ that because of her I had abandonment issues, and what did she do? She abandoned me again.

Santana let out a pained whistle, and I felt a sting of remorse.

"Ouch." She ran her hand through her silky raven locks, and regrettably dropped my hand from hers.

"San…" I reached out, completely unable to help myself from attempting to calm the lines of anguish apparent on the Santana's features. She turned her head.

"No, I deserve that, but tonight isn't about me."

With that, she turned her back to me, and used a key from her Cheerio Captain master set in the gymnasium lock. She pushed the door open, and held it for me, motioning me into the darkness.

With a deep breath I stepped inside, I felt her move behind me, and the door clicked shut.

"Wha…" I started, but Santana had twisted me around before I could finish, and the lights flickered on.

"Just let me do this, Quinn."

I didn't like feeling so unaware, out of the loop, and out of control, but I relented. I didn't nod, but I remained quiet. That was the best she was going to get out of me.

"As you know, this is the gymnastics gymnasium that they have been remodeling for the past few years. It's almost complete, and I thought that it would be fitting...for the Cheerio Co-Captains to break it in together, you know, before the rookies contaminate it all."

It took me a moment to recognize what she was saying, and just as I was beginning to process, she pushed a black velvet box into my hands.

"Coach wanted me to wait until our summer camp started to tell you, but I couldn't do it. I figured you would be okay with keeping this just between us for now."

I popped open the box and the beautiful, expensive gold necklace with the solid gold C peered up at me from its wonderfully silky bed. I used to have one just like this before Coach demoted me. Santana was currently wearing her own twin necklace around that elegant neck of hers.

I was at complete war with my emotions. I felt like a total ass for treating Santana the way that I had, when she was just trying not to spill the beans of my surprise, and I also felt completely and utterly giddy that I would be leading the Cheerios again. Above all else, Cheerio Captain had been my dream, and when I had lost it, it felt like everything I had ever worked for was lost. And here, standing before me, was the woman who had stolen that dream from me, and now she was giving it back, without asking for anything in return. _Fuck her, and her graciousness, and her smile, and her…jeans._

"Tumble with me?" Santana asked, dipping her head to force contact with my eyes. I realized that I hadn't spoken yet. She gestured to the brand new runway, and the untouched pile of foam cubes.

I didn't even know that I had been smiling, but my mouth was hurting from the huge grin on my face. It was obviously infectious because Santana was looking at me with an equally wide grin.

"Yes...yes…oh my god, yes." I rolled my eyes into the back of my head in pure excitement, kicking off my shoes in preparation.

Santana was yanking her jeans down before I could realize what was going on. _Oh duh, _she couldn't tumble in those deliciously tight pants. I was pretty sure that the shorts she was wearing underneath were just glorified underwear. She was trying kill me with all of this stimulation at once, I was sure of it.

We both began sprinting to the runway and hoisted ourselves onto the platform, giggling like a couple of 13-year-old girls.

Santana allowed me to launch off of the trampoline and into the pit first. It was exhilarating knowing that not only was I the first one to flip into the foam pit, but that I was going to be reigning as Head Cheerio my senior year. _Get ready McKinley._ _I'm back._

She waited for me to exit the pit before launching into what was an admittedly more difficult maneuver. _God, she was good._ She pointed her feet perfectly, and her legs were just…couldn't she have worn sweatpants or, at the very minimum, leggings like I did?

We took our turns for what seemed like forever that night, until I finally flipped into an exhausted mess, sinking into the foam, breathing heavily.

"Tuckered out, Fabray?" _How was she not completely worn-out at this point?_

She was just bouncing on the trampoline, smiling at me, as I continued to sprawl out in the foam.

"Are you going to move?" Her eyes seemed to roam my extended form.

I shook my head, I was not capable of such things, and even if I was, I just really needed to take some time to bask in the awesomeness of that night.

"Okay, well you better stay still then." She warned, and hopped lightly into the foam beneath my legs. She waded toward me, catching the infectiousness of my grin once again.

I used Santana's approach time to contemplate something that I had been considering during our flip escapades. If Coach had decided to promote me over the summer, she wouldn't have let Santana know so far in advance. She would have sprung it on her in true Sue Sylvester style. Evidently, Santana had convinced Coach to give me my position back, and Santana had compromised by promising not to tell me until this summer.

Santana was above me before I could fully recognize the implications of my discovery. Without restraint, I traced the contours of her face, breathing heavily beneath her. I wonder how many men and women had fantasized about having this beautiful creature above them like this. Well, not exactly like this, because we weren't doing anything sexual, but still, this gaze, this feeling, this position, it was intimate. Her eyes narrowed in puzzlement at my touch.

"I feel like I've been thanking you a lot lately." I couldn't catch my breath when she was smirking at me, and her hands were on either side of my waist.

"Just trying to fix my karma." She tried one of her signature nonchalant shrugs, but I wasn't having it. She adjusted onto her forearms and elbows, bringing her tropical fruit scent even closer to me.

"Is that what you tell yourself?" I glanced down at her shiny glossed lips. Did she really need to put anything else on them? My eyes were already far too frequently drawn there.

"You have no idea what I tell myself, Q." _Oh god, but I would sure like to know._ There was a definite charge to our little bubble of an atmosphere. I was able to drop my hand from tracing the side of her face, but I couldn't halt my face's progress toward hers.

I angled my head closer to hers, and although she wasn't breathing heavily before, her breaths were definitely more irregular now. _God,_ I hoped that meant I was having some sort of effect on her.

"Enlighten me?" I refused to avert my eyes from her dark chocolate stare, no matter how vulnerable it made me feel. Sex had never felt as intimate as the gaze we were currently sharing. Her eyes did not stay on mine forever, however, and slipped down to my lips before trailing back.

Her captain necklace fell onto my chest, as we both continued to close the slight distance that remained between us. I had drawn a mental borderline for myself, once I hit that line, it was her responsibility to come the rest of the way. After our last kiss, there was no way that I was going to be the instigator of this one.

_Finally._

She crossed my mental line in the sand and then some. My lips yielded to hers instantly. I had craved this since the moment our lips had connected beneath the porch. Santana's kiss was demanding, and I was all too willing to comply with any and all requests.

My memory of this did not do it justice. She moved her lips in such a sensual rhythm against mine, slowing things down after the initial excitement of contact. Her lip gloss tasted of strawberries, and I couldn't get enough.

I had been so worried that I would never get to experience this again, and yet here I was, gently pulling my head away from hers.

"San…" There was no look of disappointment or uncertainty when I was finally able to force my eyelids open. Her look was unadulterated heat, and I almost moaned just at the sight of it. "How am I not your type?" I needed to know, even if the look she was giving me screamed everything but repulsion.

"Stop talking." She commanded huskily, mirroring the exact words I had used under the porch. Instead of my neck, she pressed her lips to mine again. Didn't everything fall apart after I had used those words that night? Why, then, was I going to insist on talking anyway? Why when this felt so incredibly good, and it was such a new sensation that I wanted so desperately to explore, was I going to risk ending it?

"Tell me." I somehow mustered the will to pull away slightly again, although I couldn't keep my lips completely away from hers. I nipped gently at her bottom lip, her hair falling around me as she shook her head. "Please." I begged.

"You're an HBIC, just like me. It wouldn't work." _Really? Because it was working oh so deliciously well, as far as I was concerned. _I wrapped one arm around her neck, and grabbed a handful of her sweater to pull her close to me. I kissed her just behind her ear, very cognitive of the quiet but animalistic noise that escaped her lips.

"Mmm…well, I can be more submissive, if that's what you need." The noise she made in response was nowhere near as quiet as the last, and this time, her lips did crash into mine.

She tasted like the spearmint gum that she was always chewing although I was rather confident that it was not currently in her mouth. I would have to investigate to know for sure.

I was completely sober this time, but I still could not manage to control my hips. They bucked with every new sensation, every new noise. I wanted more. Could you blame me? I was making out with my Co-Captain in the brand new foam pit, how _fucking_ erotic was this?

She rolled her tongue against my lips, and I was all too ready to meet her tongue with mine. Her hands were in my hair before I even recognized their movement, and now that she was no longer supporting herself on her arms, her body was flush with mine. It was the ideal amount of warm, amazing pressure.

Without warning, we heard a loud noise, and both stilled instantly. It was the sound of someone opening one of the large gymnasium doors. _Fuck. _I separated my lips and tongue from Santana's to give her what I can only imagine was seething glare. If someone found us, I was going to kill her.

_Footsteps. _By the jangling of keys, it was either a janitor or security guard.

Santana for her part, did not look frightened, of course not, instead she looked like she was trying to hold back laughter. In her defense, she did quietly shift both of us, making us a less conspicuous target for the unwelcome visitor. We were now beneath the line of the bin, and Santana was attempting to wiggle herself down even further. Whether she did it on purpose or not, her thigh connected with the apex of my thighs, and I gasped.

The footsteps paused, and my heart stopped. We could get suspended. I could lose everything. All because Santana had pushed her bare leg into my thinly covered center.

Her face was priceless. She looked down at my leggings in surprise. At least I had my answer as to whether she had done it on purpose. When her eyes returned to mine, however, they were darker, and her tongue curved partially over her bottom lip briefly. My heartbeat was back.

She lowered her lips to hover over mine. _Fucking tease. _I was no longer thinking about the janitor or security guard. I was tilting my head up instead, that was, until the lights all turned off, and the door slammed shut.

We both let out heavy breaths, whether it was because the guard left or if it was because of the moment we just shared, I didn't know.

Regrettably, Santana's body weight shifted off of mine, and I followed her as she climbed out of the pit. With her cell phone light, which I believe she extracted from her bra, we collected our shoes and the box with my necklace in it.

She was locking the door behind us before we both erupted into laughter. It was pouring rain by then, and we both sprinted to our cars.

"Oh shit." Santana cursed behind me, as she had reached her car first.

"What?" I yelled back to her, shaking out some of the rain in my hair. _My god, did she look good wet._

"I forgot to grab my pants!" She glanced back toward the building, and then down at her scantily clad legs.

"You're lucky that's all that happened!" I laughed at her, climbing into my car.

Just as I was about to step into a very hot shower that night, my phone buzzed with a text from Santana.

**Come with me on a recon mission for my pants sometime? ;)**

She had to be kidding, but I would be lying through my teeth if I had said that I wasn't tempted.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

_Devil in a red dress. _It was my signature color, and I just had to rock it for prom. Many of my friends, yes my friends, and I had decided to do the group dinner thing at Breadstix before the dance.

We were taking up multiple tables in the restaurant, relatively close to one another, and Puck was passing a flask underneath and between the tables whenever he decided that no one was looking. He was an idiot, but I could have kissed him that night. Not in a sexy way, but in an "I'm grateful that you're my friend" kind of way. You see, the past couple weeks Mercedes has done nothing but complain about her lack of date for Prom, and instead of taking an easy lay, Puck had asked Mercedes instead. She looked like she was having the night of her life.

_Ew, _when did I become so freakin' sentimental?

Our table consisted of Puck and Mercedes, Tina and Mike, and Brittany and Artie. It was nice not to spend the night surrounded by Cheerios as I had in years past. Not that I didn't love my Cheerios of course, but I felt at ease with this group, like I didn't have to be in head bitch mode all the time.

Oh, and Sadie was with us. Can't forget her.

Before I had asked the smoldering redhead to Prom, I had made sure to clear it with Brittany first. She had assured me that it was completely fine and apologized for the millionth time for going all "cut a bitch" on my birthday. I really missed how close we were before, and I hoped to get to spend a little time with her that night. It only made me slightly uncomfortable that she was squeezing Artie's leg suggestively as if he could actually feel it.

Finn and Rachel had arrived last to the gathering, and they were forced to take the only open seats next to Sam and Quinn. _Awkward. _I was grateful not to be at that table.

In truth, every table had some current and prior romantic entanglements. We needed to stop being so damn incestuous.

That's what I was doing with Sadie. Breaking out. Or something like that. She looked great, and her black dress was classier than I expected it to be. The strappy back exposed quite a bit of skin, not that I was complaining, but otherwise it wasn't super short, and her cleavage didn't look like it was going to bounce free at any second. I had underestimated her taste; I had even brought extra double sided tape in case she was going to have a wardrobe malfunction.

"Why does Kurt keep looking at you like you're the love child of Barbra Streisand and Patti LuPone?" Tina asked me curiously, looking between me and the fashionable boy.

I didn't register the question at first; I was too fixated on how close Sam's Hoover Lips were to Quinn's ear. Her dress was a beautifully dark shade of purple, and her hair was styled up with a few curled tresses down to shape her face. She was giggling and playing with her napkin. _How precious._ I didn't want to feel like this all night. With that in mind, when Sadie offered me the flask under the table, I took my draw before passing it on.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter XV**

**A/N: Just a couple things...Sam is a Junior in this story just like Santana and Quinn. Also, I used a mixture of songs from both Glee Proms, as well as some others.**

**Thank you for reading, and thank you so much for all of the support so far!**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

The past few days had been a complete whirlwind. Prom preparations, Cheerio Nationals preparations, Glee Nationals preparations….add on school and work, and I was barely getting any sleep. A particular blonde hadn't been helping in that category either.

I didn't take her to the gymnasium to kiss her that night, I swear. Last fall, I had been the one to tell Coach Sue that she was pregnant. Coach had ripped that Captain necklace off of Quinn so quickly at the next practice that I could have sworn the woman had ninja powers. Sue Sylvester probably would have found out soon enough from other sources, but that didn't do anything to assuage my guilt. Shamefully, at that time I only cared that I wouldn't have to share Captain with her anymore.

I started a couple months ago by dropping hints to Coach that I could really use some assistance with running the squad. Most of these comments were met with insults about me being weak or incompetent, but I didn't care. Quinn did most of the work for me by being such an incredible athlete and example on the field. Sue was a bitch, but she couldn't ignore Quinn's talent.

When Coach finally shoved that jewelry box into my hands and said, "Fine, but if Fabray gets knocked up again I'm going to make sure that you and your entire family are deported. Have this cleaned so it doesn't stink of flabby Finn Hudson's offspring anymore", I was pumped.

I did fulfill the cleaning part of the bargain, but I did not keep my promise to wait until summer Cheer Hell Week to give it to Quinn. It was difficult enough not to tell her before the necklace was done being cleaned.

I had to keep my distance for a couple of days, and apparently Quinn took my absence in all of the wrong ways. I will say that part of my silence _was_ that I was hurt over having to find out from Jew Fro Kid that Sam was taking Quinn to Prom.

The Prom part didn't bother me so much, but knowing Quinn Fabray, she wanted that crown and an idyllic romance was going to help her get it. That meant that it was going to be more than just one night for the two of them.

I wasn't going to let her see that it bothered me. I had no right to be bothered by it anyway.

See, this was the problem with getting close to Fabray again. As frienemies, I wanted to rip her clothes off sure, and as friends I wanted to do the same damn thing…only with feelings. I didn't know how to be a good friend to her, without falling for her at the same time. This was going to get internally messy for me, fast.

So, when she was lying beneath me in that foam pit, with her cheeks flushed, using her sexy breathy tone of voice, I was a goner.

Every time Quinn had put her face close to mine over the past few weeks, or made a flirtatious joke or invitation, I wrote it off. I made excuses for every single one of them, and convinced myself that I was being an eighth grade fool again and just reading into things that weren't there.

But _fuck me_ if her eyes weren't screaming "kiss me" that night.

I wasn't stupid. I've had more than a handful of girls make those eyes at me. Well, not those eyes. Those eyes did something to me that no other eyes ever did.

In the days following, I tried to act as normal as possible. So, there may have been more flirty smiles, and dirty jokes than usual but I didn't corner her all over the school and have my way with her. No matter how much I wanted to do so.

Other people were always around, and that might have been why we didn't speak of it. For my part, I didn't intend to ever speak of that night. It was a chapter of pure perfection in my fantasy book, and I wanted it to stay just the way it was in my memory.

I was going to have to come up with something gross to focus on when we started using that foam pit, however, because I did not want to be all hot and bothered around my squad every time we worked out there. Although, hot and bothered didn't even _begin_ to cover it.

One thing I _couldn't _do was sit here pondering what that night meant when Stripper Sam was probably doing some stupid impression in Quinn's ear.

I couldn't even hate him. That was the worst part. There probably wasn't a guy in the whole school who would treat her better than Sam would. And I knew from first-hand experience that he wasn't a terrible kisser. He also cared enough that he would probably make sure that she was having a pleasant time if they ever did the dirty. _Ugh._

He was so much better than Finn was, that was for damn sure.

Friends were supposed to be happy for one another. I needed to work on that.

"Hey." Sadie squeezed my leg to get my attention, and I saw that people were waiting for me to slide out of the booth so they could exit. Last thing I knew, Sadie had been having a friendly debate with Mike about who was going to have the better football team next fall. She seemed to be getting along with everyone so far, including Brittany.

Although if Artie looked at Sadie's chest one more time I was going knock him out of his wheelchair. He was lucky to have a Cheerio as his date, and he needed to fucking act like it.

Once we got to the limo, I decided that I was going to take another huge swig out of Puck's flask.

Sadie took my hand as we made our way out to the parking lot, and flipped part of her hair over her shoulder. She had some big beautiful hair, and I was glad that she had chosen to wear it down that night.

Given that we both could be such high maintenance HBICs, she barely got to my house before the limo arrived, and I didn't even get to the door to greet her until the limo had already pulled into my driveway. I had been running about 20 minutes behind all day after getting my nails done with Tina and Mercedes, and I was lucky to even make it to the limo on time.

Because of the rush and distraction of the night, I realized that I hadn't yet told her how great she looked. God, I was probably such a shitty date.

This was my first real date with a woman. Not coffee, or breakfast after getting it on the night before, or dinner as a mere pretense for making out, but legitimate, "I'm with a girl and we aren't just friends because I'm a big ol' lesbian" date. I couldn't waste it by focusing on someone who was with someone else.

"Hey." I mimicked Sadie's word from earlier, and she glanced over to me as we approached the limo. "You look beautiful." It was a simple compliment, but you wouldn't know that by the way her face lit up.

_Cough._

We both turned to see Sam and Quinn behind us, also walking hand in hand. Sam took the flask from the blonde's hand, obviously concerned.

"Slow down, Quinn. Puck has more stashed in the limo. There's no rush." Sam cautioned.

Sadie ignored the conversation behind us, sliding into the limo. "Thank you. You look like…" She started, but a rowdy Puck finished for her.

"Walking sex." He winked at me, and I couldn't help but to flash him a smile back.

"Definitely." Sadie agreed and placed her hand on my knee as soon as I scooted in next to her.

"I say this from a very hetero place, Santana, but I have to agree with my date. I think you are past the threshold of hot where gender even matters."

I held up my hands, "Guys stop, please stop." I smiled through my discomfort, blowing a kiss to Mercedes as the limo door shut behind Sam.

Puck started tossing wine coolers at all of us, and I decided that it was a proper time for a toast. I was going to have a good time tonight, no matter what.

"Here is to all of the gorgeous ladies in the limo tonight. Hopefully we do not drink to the point of vomiting on ourselves on stage!"

The Prom Band had pulled out last minute, so Principal Figgins had replaced the Band with a DJ and a few sprinkles of Glee performances.

We all clinked coolers and I could tell that by the atmosphere and facial expressions that everyone was starting to get excited.

"You know, if someone had told me two years ago that I would be riding to Prom with Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez, and not in the trunk as some kind of prisoner, I would have thought it was a joke." Tina confessed, pulling Mike's arm around her.

"Careful, if you talk too much about feelings, Santana may jump out of the window." Brittany whispered loud enough for me to hear across the aisle and I scowled at her. _What the fuck?_

"Well, I think I can speak for us both, Tina, when I say that there is no group that we would rather be with tonight." Quinn swept in to prevent the awkwardness that could have ensued from a reaction to Brittany's comment. I wanted to shoot her a look of gratitude but I couldn't see her past Sam's giant mouth.

Because Finn and Rachel had been late, they were driving separately, but otherwise the vast majority of the group was there.

"One more toast?!" Kurt raised his drink into the air, "To celebrating being young, and having already found others who accept us for who we are!" Admittedly, my heart did swell a tad at Kurt's toast. I could tell that he was feeling more secure now, and I was grateful to be a part of that.

"There is so much love in this limo right now." Sadie smiled at me, sipping her cooler.

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't realize it was going to be such a love fest." I smiled back, and she laughed, intertwining her fingers with mine.

* * *

As soon as we exited the limo, Sadie pulled me aside from the line of people entering the school building.

"Okay, I know you're a big talker, but give me a couple minutes before you release any more of your wit into the world." I nodded, attempting to ignore the blonde who kept looking back at us as she followed the crowd into the structure.

"I like you. I think you're ridiculously smart, and funny, and so fucking sexy. But as much as we are alike" she paused here to smile at me, checking to make sure that I understood her joke, "I still never have any idea what's going on in that head of yours."

I opened my mouth to speak.

"No, not yet." She chastised. "I'm not asking for anything here. As I said before, you and I have a lot and common. We're not even the love 'em and leave 'em types, we're the fuck 'em and leave 'em types. But if you ever wanted to try something different, let me know, okay?"

This girl was bold, and I respected that, but I had no idea what to say. Was she suggesting a relationship? Like, a real one? With commitment and everything? Were either of us capable of commitment?

Sadie had never been shy about her attraction for me, and I loved that about her. It was nice to know that if I flirted with her on Monday, things wouldn't be weird on Tuesday.

"Just to let you let you know, if sex is all you want for now, I'm _so_ game for that as well." She offered sincerely, emphasizing the "so" with eyes that traveled down my body.

My mouth went dry.

"Now, let's go get ready to show these kids who the rightful Junior Prom Queen is." She gave me a confident smile, and without a word from me, we went inside.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

_Where the hell were they? _The rest of us had already made it into the over decorated gymnasium and Santana and Sadie were nowhere to be seen. Did they have to squeeze in a quickie before their first dance, or what?

I swatted Puck's stomach. "Flask. Now." He stood behind me to shield me from the line of chaperones as I took yet another swallow of the burning liquid.

The large gymnasium was pretty full already with excited teens. Sam was off getting us some punch, which I hoped had already been spiked.

"What's going on with you, Quinn?" Puck took the flask from my hands to hide back in the inside of his jacket.

"I'm just nervous about the King and Queen announcement." I lied, and as dumb as this boy could be he didn't looked convinced.

It was almost a half an hour later and I still hadn't seen a glimpse of Santana since we had left the limo. Artie, Sam, and Puck had already done some outrageous version of Rebecca Black's Friday. Thank god everyone had already voted for Junior Prom Queen and King because after that performance, Sam and I would be screwed.

Even weirder, was the Dinosaur song Brittany was currently performing. At least people could joke around and dance during "Friday", but, for this, people just had to stop and stare at the giant dinosaur heads that her Cheerio back up dancers were swinging around in.

Brittany was in some kind of Tarzan getup, and I was so grateful that she was able to give me some of my first real hearty laughs of the night. She could dance the hell out of anything.

The DJ was back on, and Sam's hands were in mine immediately, that goofy grin on his face, dragging me out to the middle of the floor. Mercedes was jumping around with Puck, and I didn't stop myself from joining in.

I had almost forgotten about Santana's absence when the gym lights dimmed a few songs later. I noticed Mercedes was gone, and Puck was dancing with some sophomore before the music cut out.

_Never know how much I love you  
Never know how much I care  
When you put your arms around me  
I get a fever that's so hard to bear_

_You give me fever, when you kiss me_  
_Fever when you hold me tight_  
_Fever in the mornin', a fever all through the night_

I had found Santana. As had the other couple hundred or so people in the gymnasium. She looked so phenomenal that night. When everyone was fawning over her in the limo, I agreed wholeheartedly mentally with everything that was said. Her red dress hugged every curve, including the curves of her voluptuous breasts, and her delectable ass.

Mercedes, Tina, and Kurt were swaying behind Santana as her sultry voice floated out from the speakers. Sam didn't seem to mind that although he was trying to slow dance with me my eyes were glued to the stage. Santana's hands enveloped and caressed the microphone as if it were a lover.

She gave me goosebumps. I can't believe that had been fortunate enough to make out with such a woman just a few days before. _Fuck_, I wanted to do it again. _Over and over again._

A flock of underclassmen Cheerios were guiding people away from the stage, creating a wide breadth of space on the floor for something. Sam and I didn't have to move much to get out of the way, but it still served to rouse me, at least partially, from my thoughts.

Santana handed the main microphone to Mercedes, making her decisively intense way down the steps of the stage.

_Sadie._

She stood a few feet away from the steps, posed with her arms extended, before Santana grabbed the redhead's hand to spin the bitch toward her.

_Sun lights up the day time_  
_Moon lights up the night_  
_I light up when you call my name_  
_And you know I'm gonna treat you right_

_You give me fever, when you kiss me_  
_Fever when you hold me tight_  
_Fever in the mornin'_  
_A fever all through the night_

They performed some sort of latin/jazz fusion dance while Mercedes did the song some major justice. They were tight. In perfect synchronization. _Gah,_ how many nights had they spent rehearsing this? How could things not end up heated between them after practicing a dance like this?

"Dude…" Sam mumbled next to me,

"Dude is so not accurate." Puck shook his head in pure appreciation after appearing next to us in the cheering crowd.

Santana may have been the shorter girl, but she was clearly leading. Sadie had lifted her leg to hook it around Santana's hip as they glided across the floor.

_Who was I ever kidding? _Santana must have lied when she told me why I wasn't her type. Sadie was definitely a HBIC. Santana's type was obviously incredibly flexible dancers. I couldn't compete with that. Not even with years upon years of lessons could I ever imagine demonstrating that degree of skill on the dance floor.

I dropped my head in defeat against Sam's chest, and he wrapped his arms around me. It was comforting despite the fact that he had no idea why I was using him for support.

These moves were far more demanding and complicated than the Justin Bieber performance that Santana had given, and the muscles in her long lean legs made that evidently clear.

Sadie twisted Santana around, and with her back to the redhead Santana's hands moved purposefully down the sides of Sadie's hips and thighs before Santana dropped down like it was her job, extending one gorgeous leg back and in between her dance partner's legs.

I couldn't even be mad at Sam for standing with his large mouth agape. I was sure his thoughts were no dirtier than mine.

Most people didn't know that Santana worked as a dance instructor. It's not like she had to work, her parents were loaded. They certainly didn't know that she could dance like this.

"They really make the whole being with a girl thing look completely doable, don't they?" Rachel Berry fanned her face with her hand.

"When did you get here?" I asked, although I wasn't sure that I cared.

"Awhile ago. Finn started getting really gropy when Santana and Sadie started in on this, and I thought it would be safer over here." It seemed to hit her who she was speaking to. "Sorry Quinn." She sputtered.

"It's fine, Rachel. Really. Finn and I are so done." It was true. I didn't even think my ego was still bruised at that point from being replaced by the spastic troll.

"Yeah, I noticed. You and Sam seem really happy." Her eyes were constantly seeking some sort of approval from mine.

"Thanks." Why couldn't I look at Berry while she was speaking to me instead of watching the two bodies roll so skillfully against one another on the dance floor?

"I voted for you." _Okay, well that got me to look away._

"And I would have done so even if Santana hadn't threatened to send all of my animal sweaters through a woodchipper." She continued in her normal rambling fashion.

"She what?" This girl often has people thinking that she is crazy, and in that moment, I was no exception.

"You didn't know? She's been bothering everyone to vote for you." _No, of course I didn't know._

I glanced back to the dance floor as the song ended, Santana had dipped Sadie back and Sadie's hand was resting possessively on the brunette's cheek.

The room erupted, and it was almost as deafening as the pounding of my heart in my ears, until the DJ eventually put on a different track.

* * *

It wasn't more than an hour later before I had a crown on my head. Sam and I had already done our Queen and King dance and I knew it was something that I would never forget.

There wasn't even a flash of disappointment on Santana's face when my name was announced. Not a flicker, not a single hint that she had wanted this for herself.

Rachel must have been telling the truth.

"May I have this dance, my Queen?" I was giving my aching feet a rest when the gorgeous brunette found me. I thought I nodded, but I wasn't really sure. I must have agreed in some form because she had me on the dance floor in seconds, pulling me close, with her hands around my waist. We moved to Blaine's slow, almost haunting, piano version of "Teenage Dream".

Was it weird to be dancing in public with a girl like this? _Probably._ Did I care? I wasn't sure.

Wasn't I supposed to prefer Sam's taller form, his larger arms, and his cologne? Because I didn't.

Santana was currently taller than me, because her heels were much higher than mine, her arms were toned and tan, and it was her hint of perfume that overwhelmed my senses.

We didn't speak, and I rested my cheek on her shoulder, my arms draped around her neck. For a couple of minutes, I was able to forget about Sam, about Sadie, about everyone else save for the girl who was quickly becoming my best friend again. I allowed myself to focus on her breathing, her hands on the small of my back. _Normal friends don't dance like this._

"Sa…" I broke the silence to say her name, but the song changed before I could finish. The dance floor was rushed immediately when Gangnam Style came on. We were surrounded by all of our friends again, but she still glanced over at me with a searching smile.

Sugar Motta was making a fool of herself in front of us before Brittany, Mike and Sadie stepped out in front. I tried to be as enthusiastic as the others while they all attempted to follow the dancers. Santana wedged herself between a few people to be next to me, showing me the movements a tad slower than the supposed experts up front. Soon, I was able to keep up, and I had to admit it, I was having a blast. Santana gave me an encouraging gesture, as I continued to do the "horse" bounce.

A slow hip hop song followed, and everyone coupled up. Sam was grinning at me beneath his King crown, and I reached up to adjust it, just a touch, on his head. Mercedes and Puck were also smiling at one another, as he was jokingly yanking her into a Tango pose. Tina and Mike were touching noses. Rachel was doing everything she could do get high enough on her toes to reach Finn's cheek, I assume to kiss it. Brittany was sitting on Artie's lap as he rolled around the dance floor. And Blake and Kurt were dancing cheek to cheek.

_How did I get so lucky? _I had genuine friends to spend this night with, and things were surprisingly drama free. _Well…at least until that point._

In my scan of the crowd, I hadn't finished looking directly to my right where Santana and Sadie were embracing.

Sadie had stretched out her hands in front of Santana's, raking her fingers down the shorter woman's palms before yanking Santana to her by the brunette's ass. I didn't think they could get any closer. Sadie was straddling Santana's thigh, her hand was now on the back of Santana's neck and their eyes were locked. _Oh god, no._

I watched in absolute heartbreaking horror as Sadie joined her lips to Santana's.

Something inside me snapped. HBIC Quinn came out and there was nothing I could do to stop her.

"Hey fire crotch, how about you forget your backwards backwoods hick ass nasty gingervitis orangutan tendencies, and you muster up some fucking class . This isn't your fucking brothel, got it?!" My hand was on the taller girl's bicep before I could realize it and I pushed her away from Santana.

Out of my peripheral vision, it seemed like all of the dancing around us came to a complete stop.

"Class? Really? Oh I've been plenty classy. _I've _been refraining from knocking that crown off of your haughty little head all night when all _you've_ been doing tonight is either mean mugging me or panting like a bitch in heat at _my_ date."

I was confident that I was going to tear every strand of red hair out of that head. I lunged forward before Sam's arms wrapped around my stomach. The movement was almost simultaneous with Puck's arms wrapping around Sadie's stomach. We were both lifted off the ground, still attempting to swing despite the distance that was now between us.

Santana glared at both of us. She seemed furious and stunned all the same time.

"Are you two serious right now? What the _fuck i_s wrong with you_?_" As if Santana was one to talk. She wasn't exactly the last person to typically resort to violence. Santana stormed away from us and out of the gymnasium before either of us could say anything else.

After a few moments of complete silence, we were both lowered down, despite the hesitant glances exchanged between Sam and Puck.

Many people peeled away from the scene then, but Sadie and I just stood, staring at one another as if we were daring the other to move.

"I'm gonna go check on my girl. Sam, Mike, make sure we don't get our asses kicked out of this joint, okay?" Puck slid away into the crowd to go after Santana, and Mike took Puck's position behind Sadie.

Neither of us were going to back down. That was clear. I couldn't decide if I was embarrassed by my outburst or not. Artie rolled up next to me and handed me a cup of punch, and although I was grateful, I drank it without acknowledging him and without breaking my stare with Sadie. Anytime either of us stepped near each other we were met swiftly by a male arm in front of us.

"C'mon you two. We could all get thrown out for this." Mike pleaded, and I felt Brittany's hand on my back. She was attempting to soothe me, rubbing light circles with her fingers into the fabric of my dress. I have no idea how long I just stood there while Brittany did her best to calm me down.

Everyone was probably wondering why the Junior Prom Queen just lost it like that. _Gosh_, I had made a fool of myself, and for what?

Eventually, I tore my death glare away from the bitch in black, and I made my way into the hallway. Most of the group moved with me, as if they were afraid that I was going to pull a Brittany and cut some random chick in the hallway.

I just wanted to be alone, either that, or I needed to find Santana.

The thumping music was finally muted when the doors closed behind us after we reached the hallway.

There was another noise though. Like a group of car horns honking sporadically.

"What's that noise? It sounds like a bunch of bleating geese or something." Sam asked to no one in particular, and I felt his hand join Brittany's on my back.

I was trying to decide which way to go to separate myself from the group, but the hallway was _packed._ The night was certainly winding down, but I couldn't imagine a reason why there would be so many people simultaneously in the hallway.

"I think those are called car alarms, farm boy." Tina responded without any malice. That seemed about right.

All of our thoughts were diverted when Mercedes barreled her way through the hallway crowd, a crowd that was now clearly moving in the direction of one of the back lot exits. She didn't seem to have any qualms with pushing people out of her way, since the horde of people was moving in the opposite direction.

She must have followed Puck to find Santana.

When she finally reached us, she was gasping heavily from the effort of moving against the will of the throngs of people. We were all waiting impatiently for her to speak, since she had seemed so urgent in her fight to get to us.

"Something's happened to Santana." She breathed, and the gravity of her tone sent my heart into a free-fall.

It was then that we all heard the symphony of sirens join the chorus of car alarms.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter XVI**

**A/N: A few things...**

**1. Thank you for all of the exam encouragement. I think it went well. **

**2. Holy reviews, Batman! I hope my story makes all of you feel even a fraction of how your reviews make me feel. I'm incredibly appreciative of the detailed, thoughtful, and often hilarious feedback that I receive. Muah!**

**3. To the non-registered "Grilled Cheesus" Reviewer, I may have spit out my Honey Bunches of Oats when I read your review. Pure hilarity. You're amazing. Thank you. **

**4. Please continue to let me know your reactions, favorite lines, and distaste for cliffhangers. If you're enjoying the experience, and you haven't reached out yet, please do so. **

**5. *****Warning*****Most importantly, this chapter involves violence, if that is a trigger in some form for you then please do not read this chapter. **

**6. So much love for all of you right now, you have no idea. **

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Prom was going amazingly well. Far better than I ever expected. My performance with Mercedes, Tina, Kurt and Sadie was _Feverlicious_. Quinn was Queen, which was exactly what I had wanted.

Brittany and I had "Dougied" together, and that was the most fun I had been able to have with her in such a long time.

Berry wasn't even getting on my nerves as much as usual. She wasn't singing along with every song, which I think helped.

No one was crying or screaming at each other, and after having a few drinks throughout the night, I was ready to continue the fun at the after party at my house. All of my fellow limo riders had parked there, and I was sure that there would be more people in attendance than just the few of us once we headed back. For once, I wasn't worried about things getting out of hand and everyone ending up at each other's throats.

Kurt had told me earlier that everyone had been leaving him and Blaine alone, and that he had even received a couple compliments about how cute they were together. Warmed my icy heart, it did. The most I had received while with Sadie were some curious stares.

Maybe we weren't in a town as podunk and ignorant as I had thought that we were.

This is what I had worked to change for. The more walls I sledgehammered down, the more I was able to just enjoy my friends. _My loves._

Sure, watching Quinn and Sam together had partially tinged my Prom mood with sadness, but every time I saw them exchange a dopey look, I tried to turn my attention to something positive. It sounds cheesy, but I could have gone to a dark place instead. A wicked place as I had years before. _But god_, I had been miserable in that place.

This place in my life was the happiest I had ever been. The people I danced around with didn't do it because they were scared of me or because they wanted to be seen with me for popularity sake. They did it because I had been fighting to show them another side to me rather than just the cruel bitch act.

Quinn deserved to have her crown and her surfer wannabe boyfriend. With our new friendship, one of the first things I had to come to terms with was that she deserved to be happy. I had fought to deny her happiness for so many years, because I was hurt and I was selfish.

_Believe me_, I still was no angel, but I couldn't demonize the girl any longer just to make the management of my own emotions easier.

Sadie was more than a tolerable date. She was charming whenever I introduced her to someone. She had no qualms about doing her own thing if I had to excuse myself for a bit or if someone else had requested a dance with me. She whispered some downright _hot_ things in my ear throughout the night. I was lucky to have her with me.

I certainly wasn't ready to wife up, but I was willing to give this girl a second thought or two.

The dance was in its home stretch when the DJ put on the R&B/hip hop track, and Sadie found me, draping one long arm on my shoulder to do her thang. Her dance talent was different than that of Brittany's. Brittany was all about precision, whereas Sadie was all about passion.

"You have cute friends." She smiled, her lips close to mine, gesturing with her eyes to the couples around us.

I caught a glimpse of Sam and Quinn, and my stomach dropped in that unpleasant fashion. I didn't want to feel like that anymore. _When was it going to go away? _

A beautiful girl's body was pressed into mine, a girl who had told me that evening that she wanted more than just orgasms from me.

She was taking this dance past PG, and I wasn't stopping it. She was practically riding my thigh when her hand seized the back of my neck. Her eyes were blue green fire, the desire all too apparent.

Sadie's lips found mine, and before I could register that the kiss was happening, my eyes flew open to a furious Quinn, and the redhead was pushed away from me.

"_HBIC_ battle of the _fittest_." I heard Artie hoot in his wannabe thug voice behind me, and rage and disappointment boiled inside of me.

Sadie hadn't done shit to Quinn. If anything, Quinn had been making the redhead feel uncomfortable since the day the blonde started at work with us.

So why was I upset at Sadie as well as Quinn? Was it because she stepped to Quinn?

Sadie had every right to do so after Quinn shoved her and spouted that string of admittedly _hilarious_ insults. Frankly, I was tired of the two of them going at it all the time. They both needed to grow the fuck up as far as I was concerned.

"Are you two serious right now? What the _fuck i_s wrong with you_?_" They were both kicking and swinging at the air like a couple of hot messes when they were lifted by Puck and Sam. I was grateful that the boys had stopped the fight before I had to, but honestly, I was outta there.

I was fuming when I pushed my way out of the gym. I took a sharp left, and although this wasn't my normal strut down these halls, the few people who were scattered throughout the hallway moved out of my way with great haste.

I inhaled deeply when I hit the fresh air just outside of the back lot exit.

_Why the hell did Quinn snap like that? Was it payback for all of the nights that I had ruined for her?_

It wasn't enough for her to have the crown and the quarterback but she also just couldn't help herself from attacking _my_ date. _Why?_ Would she rather I have taken a platonic male friend like Puck? Would I have fit better into her Pleasantville world that way?

I was a handful of yards away from the building already when I was halted by a voice.

"Well look who it is boys."

I turned to find a group of broad shouldered guys with stupid haircuts smoking just outside of the exit door. Some of their faces looked familiar, but hell if I knew a single one of their names.

"Hockey team, baseball team?" I guessed who they were out loud, wishing that I had picked a more private storm out location.

One of the longer mulleted boys stepped forward, grinding his cigarette out with his large shoe.

"Our Homecoming Queen doesn't even know who we are, boys, doesn't that hurt?" He clapped his hand over the right side of his chest. I think he was shooting for the location of his heart, but I had the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't a good time to correct him.

That was the second time he referred to his man child friends as boys. It was a little creepy.

I tightened my grip reflexively on the clutch purse that was attached to my wrist.

They were starting to fan out around me. I counted six of them, and my hyper awareness kick started itself.

"It's actually funny that you came out here when you did. We were just discussing how none of us would have voted for you last fall if we had known that you were a carpet munching dyke." Such hate spilled effortlessly from his buck toothed mouth.

_Excuse you, jerkoff. _ For the record, I would have won without their six votes. Normally, I would have gone all Lima Heights Adjacent at that point but my spidey sense was tingling. They weren't looking to just throw a few insults my way.

I was in trouble. _Should I run?_ A couple of them were almost behind me already. They were all much taller than me, and I wasn't sure if I could outrun all of them. Especially in heels. The time it would take for me to kick them off would be precious seconds that I would lose if I went the barefoot route.

Plus, the farther I ran before they caught me, the farther I would be away from whatever safety the proximity of the building could offer me.

"You don't want some disgusting abomination to represent our school in the years to come, right Pat?"

I was slowly backing up, and away from the group. I needed to prevent the one who I believed was "Pat" from slithering behind me.

"Right. We could do her a favor and make her normal though. They say everyone can be _cured_." He was getting far too close for comfort now. He smelled like he had foregone soap to bathe in a pool of stale, cheap beer.

Such a fool I had been. I was in _fucking _Lima, Ohio.

Kurt was wrong. He had thought that because of my power at this school, I could make people see that attraction to the same sex wasn't an illness.

My popularity had possibly saved me in the hallways these past few months, but in this moment, it had only made things more dangerous for me.

"Loudest bitch at this school, and she's not even saying a word." One of the shorter ones spoke up, belching as soon as he was done. _Gross. _

"She's being a good little whore. Saving her mouth for this _dick fever_ that she's about to catch."

I decided that it was time to act before it was too late.

I lunged to my left, slamming my fist into the hood of the nearest car that looked fancy enough to have an alarm, and did the same to the car next to it. Then, I simultaneously slapped the passenger and driver's side windows that were neighboring each other.

_One of the cars' alarms sounded. Success. _

"What the fuck are you doing you crazy bitch?" A new voice said, but I kept going, dodging a body that charged at me.

_Two alarms now. _

"Grab her." Mullet man said, and Pat caught me before I could hit the body of another car.

_I couldn't panic. I couldn't panic. _

If I survived this, I was going to write a letter to my father. It would be short and simple.

_"Dear Dad, thank you for what you taught me. Perhaps you aren't a complete failure of a parent. Tentative Love, Santana. P.S. Thanks for all the money, too." _

Pat's meaty arms wrapped around me and hauled me into his chest hard. I purposely flailed my legs so he would have to lift me in the air, and I sent my heel crashing into yet another hood.

_Three alarms. _

Pat finally caught onto what I was doing and dragged me away from the rows of cars, as the other five men continued to close the circle around me.

Heads spun as the exit door swung open, and I swear could have cried at the sight of that stupid Mohawk.

"PUCK!" I screamed, and a dangerous fire ignited almost instantly in his eyes as he absorbed the scene. Within seconds, it was a full blown blaze.

I couldn't take on six guys by myself, but with Puck I could sure as _hell_ do some damage.

The Neanderthal closest to Puck approached him immediately and swung, making powerful contact with my best friend's face.

While my captor was focused on Puck, I lowered my center of gravity to make it more difficult for Pat to move me anymore, and then I stomped down hard with my heel on the toes of his left foot.

His body bowed in pain, and his grip was effectively weakened. Using my body weight, I heaved my elbows one at a time into his torso, before throwing my head back as hard as I could to smash into his nose.

I was able to spin almost easily out of his grip at that point, and although his face was starting to mess with blood, I wasn't done. I landed the top flat of my foot right where his shaft and scrotum met, and hit him with yet another elbow to his already injured nose. He stumbled backward to become a crumpled mess on the nearest car.

I could hear the next douchebag approaching me from the side, and I quickly snatched Puck's body spray out of my clutch.

He had practically stuffed it in there when I first slid into the limo that night. Puck had insisted that because of the flask, he didn't have enough room to carry his spray on him, and that he needed it to "freshen" himself periodically for the ladies.

I couldn't have been more grateful for his ridiculousness than I was in that moment.

I rotated and sprayed the can directly into the eyes of my next attacker, as Puck uppercutted another caveman in the background. Predictably, my numbskull screamed, bent over and covered his eyes with his hands. I landed a mighty kick to his shin before the third clown reached me.

Adrenaline was coursing hot and fast through my body when the next contender grasped my wrist. He gripped it with such strength that I lost my own hold on the can. It slipped from my hand, clanking loudly as it hit the pavement.

There was a blur of movement before the back of his hand came crashing hard into my right cheek. _Holy pain, Batman._

The collision robbed me of my eyesight momentarily. The spots flashing in the darkness flared with and personified my agony.

I felt his huge fucking man ring slice through my cheek. I've always hated man rings.

His subsequent blow was to my side, and it almost made the first hit feel like a warm-up in comparison.

I extended the fingers of my trapped hand, twisting to grab his arm as he grabbed mine, punching the inside of his elbow with the flat of my hand, driving him down face first into the asphalt.

* * *

Have you ever passed out before? Do you know that feeling when you're starting to come to again, and everything is earsplitting and chaotic? One sound is indistinguishable from the other, and yet they are all so uniquely strange.

The following few minutes kinda felt like that. Except I didn't pass out.

People had started to gather outside of the exits, Puck was slamming a guy's head into another car, and my essence was floating somewhere above my body.

Not literally, but the parts of my body that I could feel didn't seem like they belonged to me, and my vision seemed to zoom in and out without purpose or reason.

I was pretty sure that the car that Puck was using for his head banging surface had an alarm that was sounding off now as well, although, I wasn't sure that we needed anymore alarms.

I could vaguely sense that someone was struggling to detach my hand from my attacker's arm, and it wasn't going well for said someone. The same someone was also endeavoring to get me to remove my foot from the monster's shoulder.

There were more people outside with us now. People who weren't rushing to attack me.

_Coach Beiste. _

She was dragging one of the assholes that I had injured backwards by the collar of his suit jacket. I think he had been coming after me again.

Her face was bright red, and I could see every vein in her neck.

"You, and you, go find Coach Sue and Principal Figgins, now!" She was barking orders, to who, I didn't know.

Members of the faculty were pulling Puck off of his target now, but he was still in rage mode. He was yelling obscenities above the hum of the growing crowd.

_Miss Pillsbury. _

Her tiny arms were on mine, and I thought she was saying something to me. I was so dizzy.

_I think I'm going to throw up._ _Did I say that out loud?_ I had to warn Miss Pillsbury. If I vomited on her she would be in the biology decontamination shower for weeks.

"Santana, honey. We need to find a place for you to sit down."

The sirens were deafening when the ambulances and squad cars began to pull into the small lot.

I almost hit the person who started applying pressure to my cheek, but her touch wasn't threatening and she was wearing a uniform so I allowed her continue.

She made me follow some sort of light with my eyes, and kept asking me questions that I wasn't sure if I was answering articulately or not.

There was some sort of band that was squeezing my arm.

"It's okay, Santana. She's just trying to help you, honey." _Why did Miss Pillsbury call people honey all the time?_ At least I was sitting down now like she had wanted.

Coach Sue was taking some of her wrath out on the crowd, slewing terrifying insults at everyone to make them go back into the building. She was making headway, although the students seemed very unwilling to go inside. That was until police officers starting insisting on the movement of the crowd as well.

"Is Puck okay?" I heard my own voice that time. _Good._ Weak, but audible.

"Yes, although the two of you did quite a number on some of those guys. Three of them have been taken away by an ambulance already." She had such a sweet mousy voice.

"We didn't…it wasn't…" _Not so articulate._

"You're not in trouble, Santana. Sunshine Corazon was sitting in her car out here and she saw the whole thing. She was the first one to call 911." Mr. Schue was suddenly there speaking to me with his hand on my shoulder looking laughably concerned.

I needed to find this girl, and marry her. Or well, hug her at least.

"Sue ran down one of the ambulances when she heard Sunshine's police statement. She threw her shake cup at the back of the vehicle, screaming about damaging the "Face of the Cheerios". I was worried that she was going to get arrested." Mr. Schue illustrated.

I laughed, although the clench of my cheek made me cringe.

"All right, Ms. Lopez, you can either ride with us in the ambulance to the hospital or someone needs to take you to see a doctor right away." The paramedic who had stopped my facial bleeding demanded.

"Um…" _What kind of options were those?_ I didn't want to go to the hospital. I wanted to go home.

"I'll take her." Mr. Schue interjected, with his hand still on my shoulder. Things were becoming much less hazy now.

"Over my dead body you will, Buttchin. She'll be under my supervision. I have to make sure that they don't mess up my Head Cheerio's face. I can't have her looking like a Chucky doll at Nationals."

"Not everything is about your stupid Cheerios, Sue. We'll both take her."

"While I appreciate the two of you squabbling over the pleasure of my company, I would _really_ just like to get this show on the road so I can put this behind me as soon as possible." It was the first full sentence that I had strung together in what seemed like hours.

By some grace of some deity the two of them shut up and came to some silent agreement.

I overheard the ambulance driver confirming that Figgins was going call my parents. _All of the good that was going to do. _

I stood up, carefully at that juncture, scanning the remains of the crowd for one Noah Puckerman. I pulled the jacket that was around my shoulders tighter around my waist. _When did I get a jacket?_

I found him standing by a police officer; the same officer that I thought I had given my statement to after the police first arrived.

"Puck." He turned to me immediately. The manner in which I said his name was much different than the last time.

His arms were around me. He didn't hug me like I was fragile; he hugged me as if he hadn't been sure that he was ever going to have the opportunity to do so again.

He was jacketless. _Ah! So that's whose jacket I was wearing._ I thought it had smelled like an earnest man whore.

"Babe." He breathed into my hair, and I didn't even care that he continued his pattern of referring to me by stupid pet names. "I was worried about you, Snix. You were pretty out of it for a while there." Snix was the name of my evil alter ego.

"Yeah, I think I was in shock." I shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal at all.

"Well, you look a hell of a lot better than the other guys." He winked at me, before swiftly replacing the cold pack on his face.

The cop cleared his throat behind Puck, and walked away in the direction of the other officers. I laughed despite the sting in my cheek and side.

Self-defense is self-defense but bragging about the damage done in front of a police officer probably wasn't the wisest move.

"So I hear, and apparently so do you." His eye was beginning to swell and he had some scratches on his arms, but otherwise he looked unharmed.

He handed me my clutch, and I returned it to my wrist once again. I didn't remember ever giving it to him.

"Are they making you go to the hospital, too?" I asked.

"Nah, I'm just bruised." I was almost disappointed. I was relieved that he wasn't injured beyond that, but it would have been nice to have a person at the hospital besides the endlessly arguing Sue and Schue.

I couldn't ask him to go with me though. He had already done far too much for me that night.

"Take this." I reached into my clutch and pressed my house keys into his hand. "Take the limo back to my place, and get the party started, okay? I'm going to need one hell of a stiff drink when I get back."

His usual mischievous smile was hesitant and muted, but I think he would have agreed to anything I might have asked of him in that moment.

I shifted, not _too_ shakily, onto my tip toes and kissed one of his clean shaven cheeks. "Thank you."

"Psh, any excuse to get my wrestle mania on." I rolled my eyes. _My hero. _

I returned to my Coach and Mr. Schue, focusing on how amazing it was going to be just to be surrounded by my friends once again that night. _The hospital better make this shit quick._

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

It all slammed into me at once.

All of the peculiarities of the hallway, and the uproar came together in my mind to form one gigantic mass of dread.

Something had happened in the last few minutes and everyone was rushing to see it.

_Something had happened to Santana. _

You know those scenes in movies where a person is running and the movie makers make it look all slow motion and dramatic? This was like that. Not because I was moving in slow motion, but because trying to push my way through the crowd was like trying to swim in Jell-O. Only Jell-O has a lot more give to it than anxious teenage bodies.

I may have acquired a head start on my charge into the crowd, but due to my lack of forward propulsion, my friends were all beside me in seconds.

I felt a tear of pure frustration roll down my cheek.

"MOVE!" I could scream at the top of my lungs, but I was still only gaining inches when I needed yards.

I could see the exit door ahead of all of us, swinging open partially and slamming shut immediately after. I was too far away, and it wasn't opening wide enough for me to see anything outside. By now, it was as if the rest of the gym had emptied and was pushing against my back.

I was trembling. Everything felt wrong.

There was long blonde hair next to me, the figure seemingly in a similar state as I was. Brittany acted like she had gone completely insane; she was thrashing and hitting random people with every limb. I was no better.

The murmurs, the whispers, the mumblings, they were slowly floating further and further back into the crowd. A fog of convoluted information was advancing toward us.

My pulse raced faster than I ever thought it could. _Warp speed, _as Artie would say_._ My one track mind went off course for just one second to look back to see if my wheel chaired friend was surviving in the shoving crowd.

All I could see was an ocean of dresses, suits and impatient faces.

_Fuck them all. This is just some juicy story to them. _

The fog was starting to reach us, and I could catch words, small fragments of an answer that I desperately needed.

"Santana." _Argh_, I had that part already.

"Blood." _What? Her blood? Someone tell me what the fuck is going on! _

"Hit." _No. Did she get hit by a car in the parking lot? _

We were getting pushed back away from the door now. We went from a standstill, because no one else was getting out, to people coming back in. I could hear shouting every time another person came through the entryway. Heads turned as a line of police officers approached from the hallway to the right, and one of them had a black version of Sue's blue megaphone.

Why would there be so many police officers here for a car accident? Did that mean there _wasn't_ a car accident? _Was that better or worse than the alternative?_

"All of you must gather your belongings and leave the building immediately. I repeat, clear the building. The back lot is off limits. If your car happens to be parked there, please report to the main office for further instructions."

A groan of disappointment rippled through the crowd, but the pressure on my back was released. The swarm of whispers continued, even more excitedly now as the officers kept a careful watch on the shifting crowd.

"She." Another fragment in the fog. _I didn't need pronouns, damn it! _

_ "_Killed_." This was torture. _

I could feel my knees buckling beneath me, and if I hadn't been tightly surrounded by people from every direction, they probably would have.

Sam found me at some point and he was leading the way through the crowd, his hand on my arm pulling me between the moving bodies.

By the time we got back to the gymnasium to gather our things, I was hyperventilating. My knuckles whitened on the back of my chair, as Sam retrieved my purse from beneath the table and put on his jacket.

"We can't do anything here, Quinn. We have to leave." I thought he offered it to comfort me, but all it did was send me further down the panic spiral. I was helpless, and that was a horrible feeling.

I didn't care that I was having the most obvious and visible reaction out of the group of us, except maybe for Brittany.

_Where was Mercedes? I needed to find Mercedes. Mercedes knew something. _

I looked around frantically.

"Where is Mercedes?"

The only people around me were Brittany, Sam, Mike, and Tina.

"I think she went out front a while ago." Tina responded. I couldn't tell if she was frightened of my physical state or worried about Santana.

_Well, what are we all standing around here for? _

"Let's go." I ordered, and both men immediately flanked my sides as we made our way out of the gymnasium. They were probably worried that I was going to collapse at any moment. I didn't blame them.

Despite the constant urges of the police, people were moving painfully slow. _Bunch of drama hungry piranhas. _

"Where's your crown, Quinn?" Tina asked from behind me and I didn't bother to respond.

It probably fell off somewhere in the mob when I was erratically trying to push through everyone. I didn't care. Someone could have stepped on it and shattered it into tiny sparkly pieces, and it still would not have mattered to my heart in that moment.

We hit the fresh night air, and I was able to slow some of my breaths. Sam had led us to the side of the building, and he was standing in front of me, trying to get me to breathe in and out slowly with him.

It wasn't working too well.

Brittany had crouched down by then and was sobbing quietly into her hands.

_Did they hear the same words I did? Probably. _

Mike was pacing around on his phone. I had no idea who he was trying to get in contact with. Puck and Santana were the ones who had arranged the limo. The rest of us didn't even know the number or which company it was that they went through.

I slid down next to Brittany, my back scraping against the brick of the school wall, and she reached her hand out for me. We clasped hands so tightly that the blood drained promptly and completely out of both of them.

"Can you reach her?" Tina was asking Mike, and he was shaking his head. _Who? Santana? Mercedes? _

Sadie rounded the building at that point, and she looked almost as shaken up as Brittany and I did. Her curly red hair was starting to expand; it looked like she had run her hand through it one too many times.

"What did you find out?" Mike questioned her immediately. _Had he sent her on an information mission at some point?_

"Not much. I had to flirt with four different officers before I could get _any_ of them to say more than 'move along' to me." _Shit, why didn't I think of that? _

"And…?" Brittany's puffy blue eyes raised from her arm.

"He said there was a "violent altercation" between "multiple students". He either refused to give me names or he didn't have them." _A fight? All of those sirens and all of that fuss for just a fight? It couldn't have been a mere "altercation". _

"I heard someone say something about the "whole hockey team" so I guess that makes sense. They're a bunch of violent idiots." Tina divulged, and I decided that none of this was ceasing to soothe the ache in my chest.

A pickup truck, which I recognized as Finn's, pulled up to the curb in front of us. Rachel scrambled out in a frenzy, and Blaine and Kurt hopped out of the trailer bed.

"Unless you know anything, please shut up." I held up my non-Brittany clasped hand as soon as Rachel opened her mouth to spew what I could only assume was nonsense.

"Hey, leave her alone, Quinn." Finn stepped around his truck to join us, and I could have punched him square in the gut.

An ambulance drove by, sirens blasting on the main street, and it averted my attention from the violent thoughts I was having.

Sam shook his head at Finn as if to say "not a good time, man", and Finn didn't say anything else.

"I heard someone say something over Ms. Castle's walkie-talkie." Rachel said quietly, and my head rose instantly.

"Whoever it was, said that all teachers trained in code "some color" and code "some other color" needed to report immediately to the back lot."

All of these pieces we were getting did nothing to give me even part of a workable picture. She didn't even know which colors were said, not that we would have known what they meant anyway.

I moved closer to Brittany and I could tell she was trying to stop crying by her sniffling. She put her head on my shoulder. She was probably the person closest to Santana in this group, and being closer to Brittany made me feel closer to Santana somehow.

What I assumed was our limo pulled up behind Finn's truck next to the curb.

I wasn't leaving. I wasn't going to watch this place disappear through the tinted windows.

I wasn't expecting my powerhouse diva friend, Mercedes, to emerge from the back.

_How did she?..._

"Wooo, Marty and I finally found you guys." Marty was the driver, I was assuming. "I tried all of your cellphones. Well, except for yours, Mike. I realized I didn't have your number."

We all reached for our forgotten phones, and if everyone else was having a similar experience to what I was having, they had two missed calls from Mercedes. _Gah, why didn't I think to check my phone?_

"But anyway, Puck said that he's on his way around the building now. Where's Artie?" She asked. _Stay on topic, Mercedes, for all that is good and holy in the world. _

"His mom came and got him. I think she heard something on the news." Brittany said absent-mindedly. _Well why don't we call Artie's mom if she knows something_? _Seriously, people. _

_ "Mercedes!" _I growled, and snapped her attention back to the matter at hand. "What the hell is going on?"

"Oh, I don't really know. Puck said that I was to round people up to head over to Santana's." _For what? Her fucking funeral? _My glare indicated that she needed to continue.

"He hung up pretty fast. He said he wanted to enjoy his first time riding in the front of a police car instead of the back." She giggled. _She's a complete dolt if she falls for that kid. _

"Santana?" Brittany, Sadie, and I all said our more-than-a-friend's name in unison. It would have been humorous if our tones hadn't been so warningly insistent.

"Like I said, he didn't say much. I think he said an ambulance was taking her to the hospital." Brittany let out an audible sob.

"And we're not headed there instead because…?" Tina asked the question everyone was thinking.

A police car turned into the parking lot at that point, and I swear, we all were holding our breaths until Puckerman swung his way out of the front seat. He winked at the female police officer, shouting "call me!" as she drove away.

He was holding some sort of cold pack to his face, and his white dress shirt was ripped and dirty.

"Aw, ladies, don't look so sad. Puckasaurus is here." He threw his free arm out dramatically.

Mercedes hugged him, and a grimace flashed on his face. Something was obviously tender.

Now that he was here, I was too afraid to ask what I needed to know.

_Thank god for Rachel Berry_, and yes, you can quote me on that.

"Puck! Are you going to tell us what happened?" She prodded.

"What? You guys don't know? We had _quite_ the audience." He cleared his throat when at least a dozen eyes bored into him.

"I don't know how much Santana is comfortable with me telling all of you."

_Is. That's a good start. That's present tense. _Additionally, as much of an ass as Puck was, I can't imagine that he would be hitting on a police officer minutes after Santana died. I knew that he loved her. It was glaringly obvious.

"She was attacked by six assholes on the hockey team." He swallowed, obviously distressed concerning his inability to play this off as a joke.

_Why would six guys try to beat up Santana?_ I mean she could be quite the bitch, but six guys on one girl was just beyond my comprehension.

"By attacked you mean…" Sadie's arms tightened around her biceps. I didn't know if she was going to cry or tear this place down.

"They were going to…" He started, but stopped himself. "I was trying to find her after you two went at it, and I didn't see her in the hallway, I even yelled into the girls' room and got a roll of toilet paper thrown at my face." I was so not interested in this part of the story.

"When I heard the first car alarm go off, I took a gander out the back door, and one of the fuckheads was holding her from behind. They had surrounded her like she was some sort of fucking prey." He spit out the last part, clearly still furious. Mercedes put her hand on his arm in comfort.

I didn't think my heart could take any more of this. Marty needed to move the fuck over, because I was driving that limo to the hospital.

"She yelled my name, then one of the jokers swung at me and it was just one big messy brawl from there." My hand was out of Brittany's and it was resting over my mouth. I wasn't sure how it got there.

"Is she okay?!" Kurt blurted.

"Yeah. She refused to go in the ambulance, so Coach Sue and Mr. Schue took her to the hospital instead. Her cheek was cut, and she is a little disoriented but otherwise she's okay."

"I'm going to repeat Tina's earlier question, why are we not on our way to the hospital right now?" Berry sounded exasperated. Not that it was a new emotion for her, but when did she start caring about Santana?

"She made me promise to get the party started before she gets back. She's had a rough night. I thought we could at least do that for her." _A sincere Puck. Huh. Who woulda thunk? _

Shortly after that we piled into the limo. I didn't think my breathing, pulse, and shivering were going to get any better until I was able to see if Santana was okay for myself.

It was a small consolation to know that if Santana were seriously injured, Puck would be by her side, and not chugging a wine cooler while demonstrating his punches into the air.

Part of me couldn't help but to blame myself. If I hadn't gone into HBIC mode, Santana would have never been outside alone with those guys. I exchanged a nervous look with Sadie and couldn't help but feel that she was thinking along the same lines.

Blaine was consoling Kurt, which I found to be peculiar. Blaine kept repeating, "It's not your fault." _Why would any of this be Kurt's fault? _

Brittany was calling Artie to see if his mom would drop him off at Santana's, and Tina and Mike were engrossed in Puck's gladiator tales. I was sure that he kicked ass, but whatever he did to those imbeciles wasn't enough.

I rested my cheek on the window behind the seat. The entire drive, I had to keep telling Sam that I was okay. I didn't blame him for not buying it, but I needed him to leave me alone.

"And let me tell you about your girl, I didn't get to see much because I was engaged in my own battles, but they told me that she at least broke one nose, busted an arm, and gave another guy a concussion."

I caught that part. _Damn, girl._

Mercedes whistled. "That's called going Lima Heights Adjacent on their asses."

That made me laugh, albeit quietly. We were headed over to her parents' mini-mansion and yet she still had people convinced that she was from the wrong side of the tracks.

* * *

It was almost two hours later, and new people were constantly arriving to Santana's. Mostly football players and Cheerios with a few other Glee clubbers like Sugar Motta, and Joe mixed in. I didn't know if people were coming for a Prom after party, or just to get the scoop on what happened.

I was tired of people talking about it, honestly. Who knows how much of what Puck said was exaggerated, but the details that were floating around seemed to grow more extreme with every passing minute. It went from six hockey players to the entire hockey team within the matter of an hour.

I was sipping the cranberry and vodka that Puck had mixed for me, sitting next to Sadie of all people, when the volume level suddenly rose in the room. Admittedly, I became very excited and looked to the door, but to no avail.

People were surrounding Artie's wheelchair, and the recliner that Brittany was chilling in next to him.

Everyone was focused on Artie's iPad.

"Wait, wait guys, I think I can hook this up to the TV so we can all see it on the big screen." He prattled excitedly, and rolled over to the television, gesturing for Brittany to hand him his messenger bag, pulling various chords from it when he received it.

_Jesus, Santana. Where are you? _

I wanted to text her, but I didn't want to overwhelm her. I was sure that her phone was blowing up and being alone with Mr. Schue and Coach Sue had to be stressful enough for her. Not to mention that she was almost sexually assaulted.

Sadie was talking to me. "Do you want another drink?" She gestured to my empty glass. Obviously she was just as disinterested in whatever Artie had planned to show to the room as I was.

"Sure. Thank you." Did I like her? _No._ Did I have the energy or the will to despise her after what that led to last time? _No._

And, as much as I hated to admit it, I was impressed that she wasn't off flirting with everyone or dancing on a table somewhere.

She was waiting, just like me, for our girl to get back.

I turned my head to the screen when I heard a room full of surprised gasps.

Coach Sue had long ago forced the school to install high tech security cameras around the building. She figured that the increased security would leave us with no excuse for why we couldn't have practice until the middle of the night. I was sure that the school and the police were grateful for her workhorse attitude now.

The cameras had obviously been expensive. The picture quality was decent, although some of the audio was difficult to make out.

We all got the gist though.

"How did you get this, Artie?" Finn asked, and Artie sighed while he paused the video.

"One of our AV club members hacked into the security camera, and uploaded the feed onto YouTube. It's already going viral."

_YouTube? Oh my god, poor Santana. _

Sadie squinted at the screen as she walked back in, handing me my drink without a word. I wondered if she was too vain to get glasses.

"Now everyone shush, and I'll start it over." And so he did. The handful of people that were out on the porch were making their way inside, and everyone was hushed this time as Artie started the video.

We couldn't make out every word, but "dyke" rang out clear as a bell. The lascivious intent of the hockey players was also very clear.

I wanted to scream "Run!" at the screen as they circled her like a bunch of disgusting vultures. I wasn't sure that I could watch this, but I wasn't sure that I could look away either.

As Santana's recorded self began running around like a mad woman hitting car bodies and windows, Brittany interrupted the stunned silence of the room, "What is she doing?"

"She's trying to trigger the car alarms." Mike answered the question from the back of the room.

"Fucking brilliant." Someone said with admiration, although I had no idea who.

I closed my eyes and turned away for a moment when one of the hockey players grabbed her.

"Turn it off!" _Was that me? I think it was._ If it was, no one listened to my plea. _This was sick._

I heard her scream Puck's name, and the sheer mixture of panic and relief in her voice forced my eyes to seek her out again.

From there, it was like Puck said it was; a big mess.

The room reacted like it was some action movie instead of a horrible thing that happened to our friend just hours ago.

You know the sound where you suck in air so sharply between your teeth that it makes that hissing noise? I was pretty sure that the entire room made that noise in unison, myself included, when the third bastard backhanded her.

Puck was throwing his weight around like someone who was accustomed to participating in sloppy battles of brute strength.

Santana was a different animal all together. She was calculated. She was smart. It was like I was watching a beautiful, but dangerous stranger.

Her strength during that video was definitely not in question, she was obviously destroying the bastards, but her maneuvers were not that of a typical 17-year-old high school student. The ease at which she fought in that tight prom dress was just _unbelievable_.

"Um…why did no one tell me that Santana was a secret CIA operative?" Mercedes watched, dazed with awe.

Puck entered the room and he seemed neither upset nor surprised to see himself on the big screen.

"Her dad is a Jiu-Jitsu black belt. He used to make her train with him before he moved to Arizona. You should see their setup in the basement."

I was friends with Santana before her dad moved, but I didn't think we were ever allowed in the basement. Why didn't she ever tell me? Is it really that embarrassing to be able to take out multiple huge guys? _I mean, really. _

The video cut out when Puck and Santana were both pulled away from their last casualties.

Puck received multiple backslaps, high fives, and "badass" compliments, while Artie just started the video over again.

Sam slipped in between Sadie and me for the second viewing. I prayed that no one was going to turn this video into a drinking game.

I was pretty sure that Rachel was sloshed again.

"I don't know about the rest of you ladies, but I am _so_ gay for Santana right now." Rachel slurred, despite the fact that she was sitting in her boyfriend's lap.

"Ew." Brittany didn't take her eyes off the screen which made her response all the more comical.

Sadie and I laughed in unison, and then stopped awkwardly once we realized we were doing so.

"We need a nickname for Santana by the time she gets back. Like, Crouching Latina Hidden Dragon." Joe suggested.

"The Adjacent Avenger!" Tina shouted.

"Vagina Whisperer." Sugar Motta offered with confidence.

"Uh, that has nothing to do with her fighting skills, Sugar." Mercedes gave the other girl a disgusted glare over her shoulder before turning back to the screen.

"Oh, I thought we were just focusing on her superpowers in general." She defended, incapable of truly caring about how awkward her comments could be.

After a couple more viewings, Artie finally unhooked his iPad and rolled his way over to the sound system, reportedly to "get the party started".

Before he started blasting, a voice that really did _not_ belong in such an environment yelled out.

"I just wanted to make sure Santana got to the door safely. Please be safe tonight everyone!" I sprung from the couch before he was even finished. Mr. Schue was covering his eyes with one hand, and closing the front door behind him with the other.

"Santana!" The name rang out a dozen times as people realized she was back, but Mercedes shouted something slightly different, and louder. "Give her space, people! We don't need a Santana stampede up in here!"

Given what I saw on that video, she currently did not physically appear to have been through anything even remotely as intense as what we all knew she had been through.

Besides the blood stains on her dress, and the white strip of bandage on her cheek, she looked flawless.

The bandage may have even made her hotter. Her hair was still elegantly pinned back, and she was still rocking her prom heels.

"Noah." She called for him first, and who could blame her after what they had gone through together?

Eyes averted, giving the two of them their moment as they hugged by the door. From the corner of my eye, however, it appeared as though she was whispering something in his ear.

I finally almost felt normal. It was so good to see her in front of me, even if I wasn't the one hugging her.

As they separated, my consistently unpredictable friend reached her hand out in my direction.

"Would you come upstairs to help me with something, Q?" I took her hand without verbally responding to her question and followed her up the stairs.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter XVII**

**A/N: I'm going to this make A/N short and sweet, hopefully. I'm so grateful for every single one of you. **

**To Grilled Cheesus/OMFG: I won't tell you what to do because you're already amazing, but you should really get an account on here. Also, I love you too. **

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I wasn't ready to face everyone yet. I know that face is a poor choice of a word, because I didn't do anything wrong, but I wasn't ready to deal with all of the questions or the looks.

I told Puck as much before I retreated upstairs with Quinn, and he understood. I knew that he would find some method of distraction until I was ready.

I led Quinn into my room by my right hand. That's significant because I'm a leftie, but my left wrist was _throbbing_.

I pushed the door closed behind us, dropping Quinn's hand. She seemed like she was either afraid to speak, or just couldn't find the right words.

"Sorry for dragging you up here, but I needs ta get out of this pig's blood dress right now." Still no word from her. "I can't unzip it one handed and I don't think I can twist my wrist in that direction." I explained, pointing to the purpling skin around my wrist with my right hand.

I didn't know if I had ever seen someone look so sad.

"It's okay." I assured her. Whatever _it_ was.

I turned my back to her, and her hands trembled, for some reason, as she unzipped my dress.

_Oh, to be free. _

I pushed the rest of it down, snatching the material from the floor to promptly toss the entire garment into my not-quite-big-enough trash can. I never wanted to see that fucking thing again.

It didn't matter to me that I was inches away from Quinn in only my strapless bra and black thong. Even though, it wasn't too long ago that I was freaked out about changing in front of her in this very room.

_But, really, what vulnerability did I have left? _

Before I could make my way into the bathroom, warm fingertips made contact with the bare skin just above my left hip. I shivered. It was such a tender touch, but still not quite gentle enough for that area.

"Careful." My breath hissed between my teeth, glancing down at her retreating hand and the growing bruise on my side that had caught her attention.

"San…" Such pain in that one syllable. It was enough to break your heart.

"Does everyone know?" I almost regretted turning around to meet those beautifully wide, but sorrow filled, hazel eyes.

She nodded. Her expression told me that she had more to add to her response, but I didn't have enough energy in me to pry.

"I need to wash tonight off. Will you come talk to me while I shower, like when we were kids?" I missed that. I missed having someone around constantly with very few modesty boundaries between us.

"Yes, of course."

"Great." Despite her agreement, she seemed hesitant to follow me when I entered my bathroom. Sliding off my thong, I reached around to unclasp my bra with one hand. After tossing the garments into my hamper, I tried not to wince as I bent over to turn on the water. "Don't worry, Q, I'm not going to ask you to take off my bra. I can handle _that_ one handed."

I tried to lighten the somberness of our current interaction. Well, it was mainly just me talking to myself so far, since she had only said four words since I got back.

I stepped under the stream of hot water, and sighed instantly.

"I wasn't worried about it." _There she is. _I could tell that she had entered the bathroom finally, and poked my head around the curtain to find that she was sitting on the bathroom sink.

"I really like your shirt." From what I had gathered from my brief view of the shindig, most people had changed out of their prom outfits. She was wearing some sort of gypsy bohemian green peasant top, and of course, it looked great on her_. Everything did. _ "And your dress tonight. I don't think I had the chance to tell you, but you made Queen look _good." _

I poured an inordinate amount of body wash onto my loofah, reveling in how wonderful the water felt, and how nice it was to talk about something other than the attack. Having to repeat what happened to police, EMTs, nurses, and doctors was like getting hit over the head repeatedly with a big book of reality.

"Aw, thanks." By her tone, I would have bet good money that if I had poked my head around the curtain again, I would see an adorable blush painted on Quinn's cheeks.

"How was your adventure with Coach and Mr. Schue?"

"How do you think it was? Coach would make some genius insult about Mr. Schue's hair, and then Mr. Schue would fail at any attempt to respond with a clever comeback. The sexual tension was so tangible that it was sickening. He freaked out most of the drive back here about how he needed to walk me to the door, but he didn't want to know any of the shenanigans taking place here."

Quinn laughed, and it was by far the most melodic thing that I had heard in hours. I knew why I had invited her up here instead of anyone else; while the girl often sent my heart racing, she was also the most calming presence that I had ever experienced. _Fucking paradox._

She was gorgeous, _stupid _intelligent, popular, talented, compassionate…I could continue, but I don't want to bore you. My point is, that it's not too difficult to imagine why someone would fall for her, most people who knew her did at one time or another.

It wasn't just about how numerous her amazing qualities were. There was something indescribable there. Something that had _always_ been there, drawing me to her.

Quinn could never know how much power she already had over me, and certainly not the potential for the even greater power that she could have if she wanted. This pull was treacherous, and if I didn't do something to stop it, I was headed straight into the ring of fire that was Quinn Fabray.

"Coach was all "due to her injuries, I'm excusing Lopez indefinitely from all Glee practices, activities, and performances." And Mr. Schue was all "You can't do that, Sue!". Then, she introduced him to the nurse as "Weepy the Vest Clown" and pushed a hospital bed cart into him. After that, he sexed her with a tongue depressor, and that was that."

I leaned out to wiggle my eyebrows at her and she pretended to puke into her hands. Except for the last part, it all happened.

"That sounds miserable. How did you manage? I wanted to come see you, but Puck insisted that we all come here instead." Quinn admitted, and I could tell that she really meant it. I was glad that she wasn't there to see every freak out that I had whenever the male doctor touched me.

"I managed by going into my own little happy place that involved picturing Quinn Fabray trying to Gangnam Style. Oh, speaking of Puck, will you text him and tell him to come take a shot with us?" I may not have been ready to be around everyone yet, but I was sure as hell ready to start drinking.

"Uh yeah, sure." I heard the soft pads of her fingers texting as soon as I shut the water off.

_Shit. _ My towel rack was more than an arm's length distance away. I slid the shower curtain open partially.

Quinn stopped texting, either because she had sent the message or because I was standing there dripping wet with an expectant expression on my face.

"Are you going to hand me a towel, Blondie, or does your pervy stare have some sort of secret drying powers that you've never told me about?" _Cutest blush ever. _It wasn't a small one either. It started with her cheeks, but it spread to her entire face before she chucked the towel at me.

"Don't get me started on secret powers." She hopped down from the sink and exited the bathroom without another glance in my direction.

I quickly dried my legs, wrapping the towel around my torso, before I followed her out.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I was bewildered by her sudden change in attitude, and she wouldn't even look at me. She just continued her finger scan of the books on my bookshelf.

"You beat the shit out of three hockey players who are all twice your size, Santana." _Why did she sound angry? _

I shrugged, and transitioned in front of the mirror of my vanity to begin removing all of the bobby pins from my hair. It was a slower process than I would have liked since I only had the full use of my right hand. But, I didn't want to talk about what happened.

"So did Puck." Was the only response I gave.

"No. He only took down two of them. The other asshole changed his mind about coming after you after he watched what you did to the others. He was clinging to the wall of the building." _Wow, how play by play did Puck detail this story to everyone?_ To be honest, I wasn't surprised. I was sure that he was pretty proud of himself, rightfully so.

She wasn't done. "But that's not the point. Puck gets into fights all the time, and the guys only had maybe 30 lbs. on him compared to the easy 100 lbs. they had on you."

She pushed me with a gentle force down into my vanity chair, and slapped my hand away when I reached for the next pin. She began seeking and removing the pins herself. I wasn't going to stop her. The determined expression on her face _was_ pretty hot.

"I don't understand, Q, are you mad at me for defending myself?"

"Fuck no. They deserved every bit of it"

"Well, you seem mad." And she did. Her eyes usually shifted toward hazel on the green to hazel spectrum when she was emotional. For anger related emotions, anyway.

"I'm just…sometimes I don't feel like I know you at all." She paused and our eyes met in the mirror.

"I'm sorry?" I didn't apologize to anyone as much as I apologized to her. Nowhere close.

"No, don't be sorry." She put her hands on my shoulders, and seemed to shake her head at herself. "Oh god, I can't believe I'm about to say this out loud." I couldn't get her to make eye contact with me in the mirror.

I perked an eyebrow at her, reaching up to release my hair from the last bobby pin, shaking out my now freed locks. I massaged my scalp, standing to face her.

Some of her confidence appeared to restore itself with her latest inhale. _What do you want from me? _

"I _want_ to know you, Santana. It _hurts_ that Puck knows that you're some sort of Kung Fu Hustle master, and I don't." I snickered at that, attempting to lessen the anguish evident in her eyes. Plus, I loved that movie. "I'm serious, Santana. Every time something like this happens, I'm reminded that I lost three years with you."

She hugged me, and I mentally implored my towel to remain stationary. A naked hug, would be an _awkward_ hug.

She squeezed me so tightly that my side ached, but I didn't have the heart to tell her.

"We could have been getting closer during that time, but instead, we wasted it, and now whenever I start to feel close to you again, I catch a glimpse of you that is completely unrecognizable." Her voice was so heavy.

I inhaled sharply and stepped back from her, to her obvious disappointment.

"What are you trying to say, Quinn? I can't be that 13-year-old girl anymore merely because you were more comfortable with who she was. Most days, I _like_ who I am, and I'm not going to change for you."

Confusion flashed on Quinn's features just before Puckerman busted through the door.

"That's not what I meant…" Quinn corrected despite Puck's presence.

He came bearing a huge bottle of tequila, shot glasses, salt shakers, and limes.

"If your pool business doesn't work out, Puck, you definitely have a future in waiting tables." I wanted to hug him every time I saw him now. I wondered if it was going to always be like that from here on out.

He placed everything on the nearest surface, and surprisingly, it took him a few seconds after entering to start raking his eyes over my toweled form.

"Did I interrupt something?" He asked when his eyes found my face again. I was sure that I appeared irritated, and as for Quinn, well, she wouldn't take her eyes off of me.

"No. Let's load 'em up." I smiled at both of them. I decided that Quinn and I could talk later because I _really_ didn't want my night to include anymore seriousness. I wanted to have fun and get crazy. Maybe I misunderstood her, or maybe she really does prefer 13-year-old closeted me to the me that I am now. Either way, I was getting drunk.

"Body shots?" He smirked, and I shot him down with one look.

"Maybe later. For now, don't push your luck." I warned jokingly, wetting the side of my good hand with my tongue before he sprinkled me with salt.

_Salt, shot, burn, lime._ _Perfection. _Well maybe not perfection, since perfect is an absolute, and the sight of Quinn removing her salt with her tongue was better than any shot.

"Another." I commanded, and we went again. I was careful this time not to ogle Quinn's incredibly sexy mouth.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

After Puck went downstairs, I kept thinking about how I really didn't want to get messy that night. What I had wanted was to provide any support that I could to Santana, any support that she would allow me to provide.

Instead, I apparently led her to think that I didn't like who she was. _Oh my fucking god_, as if anything could be further from the truth.

What I shouldn't have done, was put my shit on her tonight of all nights. It was awfully selfish of me.

I wasn't feeling too good or happy about myself, that's for damn sure. It wasn't just my need to talk about feelings after all she had been through that was bothersome. There were other crappy things as well.

I'm going to break those down by my normal and not normal actions and reactions so far for the night:

**Normal**

_Becoming extremely upset upon seeing the horrific bruise on her side. _

**Not Normal**

_Wanting to drink in every inch of her gorgeous body when she was disrobing, after she had just returned from the hospital. _

**Normal**

_Agreeing to keep her company in the bathroom while she showered. _

**Not Normal**

_The urge to strip off my own clothes, join her in the shower and explore her wet body with my hands, and mouth, once again, after she had just returned from the hospital. _

**Normal**

_Being impressed by her badass fighting skills. _

**Not Normal**

_Being jealous of Puck for knowing about them when I didn't._

That's just to name a few, but in general, the gist is that while I should have been completely focused on her needs right then, I was focused on mine.

_My _need to be closer to her, _my _need to talk about my feelings, _my _need to take her on the nearest available surface.

The last one is funny, because I really wasn't sure that I would have any idea what I was doing, but that _really _did _not_ mean that I didn't want to do it anyway.

The whole day had just been an emotional rollercoaster, and for a while there, I had thought that I had lost Santana forever. Ironic, because I would have lost something that I never really had. I blame my behavior so far on that sentiment.

My emotions were haywire, and I needed to get my shit together. Santana was never going to want to be closer to me if I continued on this self-centered path.

I needed to be grateful to have her searching for clothes in her towel in front of me, as extraordinarily enticing as she looked, rather than wishing for a different sort of relationship with her. I didn't even know what kind of relationship I wanted, but it involved knowing more about her than anyone else did, and it involved sex. _Lots, and lots of sex._

She dropped her towel, and I gasped. _Yup_, and it wasn't a quiet gasp either. She was obviously pretending that she didn't hear it as she pulled on a pair of tiny black boy shorts.

She had the sexiest back I had ever seen. Smooth caramel skin, feminine muscularity, no bones jutting out. I never thought that someone's back could take my breath away before. I won't even get started on that ass. _Seriously. _

I fell back onto the bed and covered my face with my hands. I should have opted out from _at least_ one of the three shots we took with Puck.

By the time I had finished my silent tantrum on the bed and uncovered my eyes, Santana was peering out her bedroom window, fully clothed.

"Come here." She motioned for me.

I joined her at the window, and busted out laughing right away.

There were three lines of people, at the head of which were Sadie, Mike, and some kid that I didn't recognize. They were chugging out of hallowed wiffle ball bats, spinning around with their heads on the ends, and then racing to the tree line. The kid that I didn't recognize stumbled into the bushes instead.

"Someone's going to barf before this is over." I predicted.

"Probably, but I have to hand it to Puck. When I told him to distract the masses to give me some space, he definitely didn't disappoint."

She traveled over to her desk, and retrieved a wide bracelet that was hanging from the wall above it. She slipped it over her bruised wrist and motioned for me to come to her yet again.

I did as I was told. _Again. _

"I think I'm ready." I knew she meant to go downstairs. The thing was, I would have given anything to just remain with her in her bedroom, but, I had promised myself to refrain from any further selfishness that night.

"Can I say one thing first?" Her face told me that she would rather that I not, but I continued anyway. "Earlier, before Puck came in, you didn't understand what I was trying to say. I didn't mean that I didn't like the new sides of you that I've been able to see the past couple of months. I meant that I like them so much that I'm sad that I didn't get to see them sooner. That's all."

_There's the smile I have been looking for. _

"Are you trying to butter me up, Fabray?" She was still smiling.

Unexpectedly, she inclined her head, kissing my cheek, perilously close to my mouth. It wasn't a short peck either, her warm lips lingered, and I felt her fingers trace the bottom hem of my shirt.

The tropical fruit smell must be her body wash or something, because it was especially strong after her shower.

_Fuck. _

"Something like that." I was proud of myself for getting that much out, given her proximity, and the ghost of her lips along my jaw.

"To what end?" Her lips made contact with my skin, just below my ear. There was a definitive rasp to her voice, which instigated a tingle throughout my entire body. It reminded me of her singing voice, but there was a hint of something there that she had never had in any performance.

My eyes closed of their own volition as the fingertips of her right hand glided up the inside of my forearm.

Did she realize the effect she was having on me? I couldn't imagine how she couldn't.

"Do you really not know?" I asked, and my eyes opened to meet the beautiful brown eyes that were now so close to mine.

_How could she not know how badly I wanted her?_ I hide many things from the world when it comes to my emotions, but I could never claim that I had done an adequate job of hiding my desire for Santana.

_Oh my Jesus. _

Her hand had returned to my hem, but she had slipped it under, and now her touch was skimming the skin of my lower back. _Why did her simple attentions to my back feel so fucking erotic? _

As for my obvious demonstrations of desire, I went off on her Prom date, and Sadie had completely put my interest for Santana on blast when she responded.

Every time Sadie had danced with Santana I had felt like Cha Cha DiGregorio was stealing my Danny Zuko away (I would be Sandy in this Grease analogy).

I had all but straight up told Santana that I had wanted to have sex with her under the porch on her birthday.

The handful of times we slept in her bed, I made a point to bring my face as close to hers as possible without actually touching.

If she were a guy, she would have taken those "signals" and would have been fucking me weeks ago. Well a guy that wanted to have relations with me anyway. To be fair, I've never really had a problem in that area.

Maybe that was the issue. I mean she _had_ told me twice now that I wasn't her type. But, did her sense of obligation really extend to kissing me the way she did in the foam pit?

I couldn't be making up how insanely _good_ that was, but I had also never been as attracted to anyone as I had been to Santana lately.

_Oh my god, Santana. Answer me. Let me in. _

I was tired of how complicated this whole thing was.

Her lips were back to my jaw now, and I reflexively extended my neck. She took the hint, like a true professional, and her kisses moved below my jaw to my neck.

"I know many things, Q. You're going to have to be more specific." There was that rasp again. I couldn't even bring myself to roll my eyes at her cocky statement.

In fact, I was quite confident that she knew many _many_ things. Many of which, I was sure, had the capacity to drive me wild.

Teeth grazed my neck, and the whimper that escaped my lips was one of primal need. She obviously took that as her cue to focus her attention there and softly sucked my sensitive skin into her warm mouth.

"I want you." _There, I said it._ Well, more like moaned it, but let's not split straws here.

I could not have hoped, dreamed, or desired for a better reaction than the one that I received.

She lifted me by my ass like I weighed next to nothing, which honestly wasn't too much of a surprise after the video that I had watched multiple times that night.

**_Slam. _**

_Fuck. _

_Well, hey pain, meet pleasure, I'm glad you two are getting along. _

And oh, how they were. Famously, in fact.

It's amazing how a forceful push into a wall can send every nerve on pleasure alert.

Her lips hit mine as soon as my back made the deliciously powerful contact with the wall, and although she certainly didn't need my help holding me up, I wrapped my arms around her neck, and my legs around her hips. The more parts touching, the better, I say.

If anything, the tensing and flexing of my calves were driving to bring her body even closer to mine. I wasn't sure that was possible, but hell if I wasn't trying.

Her hands felt phenomenal on my ass, _just saying_.

_I want you_ was going to become my new mantra if this is where that simple phrase got me.

The buzz that I had from the alcohol was nothing compared to the high of her kiss. Why did we go such long periods without doing this? This should be a daily event.

It wasn't a slow build to the entrance of her tongue this time. Not that I was complaining. _Such dexterity._

I drove my nails into her back, tracing her shoulder blades. She moaned heatedly into my mouth, and I resolved to do whatever I could to hear more.

She dominated the kiss, and no, not just in an "I'm ridiculously good at this" sort of way, but in the wonderfully pinning my tongue down sort of way.

I moaned. Inadvertently loud. Like a fucking porn star.

I moaned like I was climaxing instead of just kissing, although I was sure she could feel the heated degree of my desire through my jeans.

My volume and enthusiasm obviously didn't bother her, because her tongue sought out mine, as if she was seeking a repeat performance. Not to mention, she also released me from the wall, detaching my legs from her back to return me to the floor. As soon as my landing was secure, she grabbed the sides of my shirt with two hands, and was pulling it over my head.

_Finally, yes. _

"We're coming in!" A feminine voice shouted from just outside the door.

To Santana's credit, she didn't freeze, or go into complete panic mode like I did; she leaned away from the kiss, and changed the direction of her hands, pulling my shirt down instead of up.

The ease of which she handled it made me a tad uncomfortable to be honest. This was obviously not the first time that she was almost caught getting it on. She placed her hand on the doorknob and pulled it open.

Brittany, Mercedes, Tina, and Kurt charged into the room, in that order.

"Sorry, boo. We tried to give you your space, but we couldn't wait any longer. You've been up here for forever." Mercedes whined.

Santana laughed, and ran her hand through her hair. It had more wave to it than usual after being pinned up for hours, but without any effort on her part it still looked great.

The foursome didn't seem to have any idea that they almost walked in on us.

"I was just headed down. I had to gets my shower on, and get hyped for an all nighter with _you_ folk." Santana was smooth, but her tone had not yet regulated. I was probably the only one who noticed that it was shaded with arousal.

It made me want to shove all of them into the hallway and lock the door, actually.

Brittany moved first to give Santana an enthusiastic hug. If only Santana had known how frightened Brittany had been earlier.

Brittany was taking too long for Mercedes's taste, and Mercedes joined the hug, followed immediately by Tina and Kurt. Feeling left out, I joined in as well, although my arms were around Kurt and Tina rather than Santana.

"Careful, friends." Santana breathed. _Shit_, I hoped that I hadn't hurt her side earlier when I had wrapped my legs around her.

They took the hug intensity down a few notches.

"I know you probably don't want to talk about it, Santana, but we are so grateful that you are okay." _Aw, Tina. _

"I always knew that you were a bounty hunter." Brittany added, and I was pretty sure that she was serious.

"I don't kill people or find people who have warrants out for them, Brit." Santana gently corrected. It was an old game for her, I was sure. She constantly had to explain things to Brittany.

"Of course not. You just beat people up, steal their gold and escape on a pirate ship."

_Wrong sort of bounty, honey. _

This is going to sound absolutely awful, but sometimes I wondered how Santana could have sex with someone who was so childlike at times. Sure, sometimes Brittany seemed wise beyond her years, but most of the time, not so much.

"I'm so sorry." Kurt squeaked. By the way that Santana pulled out of the group hug to look at him, I could tell that this wasn't just a "sorry that this happened to you" sort of ordeal.

"Hey everyone, can I have a minute with Kurt, and then I'll be right down, okay?" Santana requested, and we all complied.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter XVIII**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Kurt appeared to be absolutely distraught. Normally, Kurt's thick quaff was styled to perfection, but right now his fabulous hair was borderline messy.

"I'm so sorry. If I hadn't asked you to go with a girl this would h…"

In true Santana style, I was done listening.

"No. I'm going to be honest with you here, Kurt. If you hadn't talked to me, I may or may not have asked Sadie, but either way, I'm so glad that I did. _You_, are _not_ to apologize to me. Okay? Not for this."

"But…" His bottom lip trembled, as he whisked away the wetness that was forming beneath his eyes.

"Listen to me, and listen good." I pulled him to sit on the end of my bed with me. Most of the time, direct prolonged eye contact was too intimate for me, but in this case, it was necessary to drive my point home.

"I am who I am just as much as you are who you are. Ignorant people are going to take issue with that but we are _never _to blame ourselves for their ignorance." He nodded twice, and I feared that the waterworks were going to start.

"Finally, there's _nothing_ for me to forgive. In fact, I should be thanking you. You were the first person to come out at McKinley. You were brave when I couldn't be. And, I am _so_happy for you and Blaine, you have no idea what I would give to have what the two of you share. _Please_, do _not _waste one more pretty tear on what those fucking assholes did. They lost, and people like them will always be fighting a losing battle, okay?"

It took him a few moments to realize that it was okay for him to speak again.

"Sometimes, you really amaze me, Santana." He went in for the hug, and I didn't deny him.

"Don't get too used it. Now fix your hairdo so we can get our party on." I gently pushed him in the direction of the vanity.

Puck's voice was bellowing from the bottom of the stairs.

"It's One Flip Wonder Time! All members of my crew, report to base!" _Dork._

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Flippy cup was starting, and I had been roped into playing on the "One Flip Wonder" team. It was way too much pressure, way too much party legend to live up to.

Although, I _was_ assured that it didn't really matter who was on the team with Puck and Santana, because they would pull out the win no matter what.

Sadie, apparently, had recently become a staple of the team as well. She had proved herself worthy a couple parties back and the core two was now a core three. From there, at each gathering, the One Flip Wonders just had to find two bozos who were willing to fill the five person quota necessary for these flippy cup skirmishes.

So here I was standing in between Sam (the other bozo) and Santana. Which wasn't awkward at _all_ given what Santana and I had been doing upstairs just a few minutes prior.

_Oh god, _was that cheating? Sam had never officially asked me to be his girlfriend, but he had taken me out a couple times before Prom, and was always trying to hold my hand at school.

I couldn't believe that he hadn't crossed my mind _once _since Santana walked in the door that night. I certainly wasn't acting like someone in a committed relationship, if I was in one.

_Did I have to tell him?_ _Well, not necessarily who it was, but that something happened in general?_

If it was cheating, it was my first time doing something like that _ever_. I had never had the urge to do so before.

To increase the tremor magnitude on the Richter Scale of awkward, Sadie had embraced Santana as soon as Santana had joined us on the porch, and the redhead had yet to stop touching the brunette.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

Sam was trying to brush me up on the rules while the other team was congregating in front of us. Four of them were football players, Finn included, and then Dakota, a Cheerio.

"When it's your turn, you're going to chug, put the cup on the edge of the table like this, and then flip it with your finger like this it until it lands upside down." He had an empty cup in front of me, in an attempt to get me to practice before the round started.

"Don't lift your cup to chug until Santana has successfully flipped hers. The first team to flip all five cups will win, and the loser has to vote a team member off the flip cup island." He finished.

"Knockout, bitches." A pumped Santana bounced next to me. It was really difficult to be so close to her without touching her.

I wondered what she had said to Kurt. She's so private sometimes, that she probably wouldn't even tell me if I asked.

"We all know you're the knockout expert." Sadie referenced the assault earlier and I internally flinched. If it bothered Santana, she didn't show it.

I was positioned across from Dakota, and the small girl appeared as wary as I felt. I did not do chugging well. _At all._

Santana's hand brushed mine as she filled my cup from the pitcher, and I stilled my hand, wanting to prolong the contact as long as possible. I really hoped that our activities earlier didn't hurt her. She seemed fine, although she had been practicing her flips with her right hand.

Puck started the round by pounding his cup to the table, crashing it into the opposite player's cup, and then emptied his glass in one smooth motion to his mouth.

He, of course, only needed one flip. Sadie was equally successful, and despite using her right hand, Santana only needed two tries.

_Oh god, it was my turn._

This beer was _not_ good, for one, and for two there was no way that I could just open my throat like the rest of these freaks of nature and pour the whole thing down. Thankfully, I had a little extra time because Santana's opponent, Finn, was still trying to flip his cup, but it was four swallows before mine was empty.

We had lost the first round, which did not please the core of the One Flip Wonder team_._

_It's not my fault that Dakota is some sort of sneaky flip cup genius._

I never even managed to flip my cup successfully. I voted myself off the island before anyone else could make a suggestion, and resigned myself to watch from the railing.

Now that it was four vs. five, one person on our team had to drink two cups, and Puck took that responsibility on himself.

The first three were unsurprisingly accurate once again, but Sam struggled, crumbling under the pressured example set by the others.

Sadie's hand was on the small of Santana's back as they both watched Sam fail over and over again.

_Ugh, here we go again._

Sam was the next person voted off the island, but from there it was a massacre. Despite the fact that two players, Sadie and Puck, had to drink two cups, they destroyed the other team. They knocked out all five players on the other team in the next five rounds.

While they were waiting for the next team, Sadie reached her phone up above the three of them, and told them to smile and say "One Flip Wonders" for the camera. Her other hand was still on Santana's back.

_And I was back to hating her again._

Sam and I served as placeholders for the following few matches. By the end, I wasn't completely awful anymore, but that could have had something to do with my increasing level of intoxication.

* * *

Awhile after the One Flip Wonder's flippy cup tournament domination, a group of us were sitting around in the living room drinking, of course, and Tina suggested that we play Kill-Fuck-Marry.

"What's that?" Rachel slurred smacking her hand on Finn's thigh.

"Someone gives you three people, and you have to decide who you would prefer to kill, who you would prefer to fuck, and who you would prefer to marry." Tina explained.

"OooOo, let's do it." Rachel purred, itching with strange excitement.

To my surprise, Santana didn't immediately leave the room as she usually did when it came to drinking games of this nature. I was grateful that Sadie was off somewhere else, it was nice to have a break from watching them together after the seemingly never-ending tournament.

Santana still had her smokey eye makeup on from Prom, and it somehow made her eyes even more breathtaking than usual. She must have hair sprayed that shit on or something for it to still be visible after all her eyes had been through that night.

"Let's start with Blaine. Blaine, your three people are Mr. Schue, Joe, and Mercedes." Tina outlined.

"Oh wow, give me hard ones straight off the bat." He pondered, and Kurt was beaming next to him, obviously loving this turn of events.

"I would marry Mercedes, because we could have beautiful mixed babies together, and she's a great cook."

"Aw, thanks boo." Mercedes grinned, and swatted in his direction with her hand.

"I would fuck Joe, because his dreads could make things interesting, and who doesn't enjoy spoiling virgins?" Kurt didn't even look mad, he just laughed, as did Joe, although Joe averted his eyes from the dark haired crooner.

"Which means I would kill Mr. Schue. His rapping is a total turn off, and there would just be way too many vests involved between the two of us." The whole room laughed, and Blaine looked pretty pleased with himself.

"Okay Blaine, that means you get to pick the next victim." Tina guided.

"I'll choose my wife, Mercedes. Sugar Motta, Finn, and Miss Holiday."

"Kill Sugar Motta, marry Miss Holiday, and fuck Finn." Sugar Motta scoffed at Mercedes' answer and Finn wouldn't remove the goofy grin from his goofy face.

"Santana. Puck, Coach Sylvester, and Quinn." _Oh no, _I was mortified.

Santana nudged her body into the mohawked man beside her on the couch. "I would obviously marry Puck, because we'd both be okay with having a ridiculous amount of affairs, and he's practically my hetero hubby anyway. I'd fuck Quinn, because, I mean, l_ook_ at the girl, and I would definitely kill Coach Sylvester. More than once, if given the opportunity."

Her eyes met mine, eyebrows raised confidently, when she said "fuck", and my body was torn between the embarrassing heat on my cheeks, and the arousal in my underwear.

_Yes, please do, Santana. Please._

"Aw! Quinn's blushing, look!" Rachel literally pointed in my direction, as if anyone needed help finding my reddening cheeks.

_Fucking hobbit._

The game continued around the room until it was Joe's turn to grill someone, and he chose Rachel.

"Sam, Santana, and Rory."

Rachel didn't even blink before she answered. It was as if she had already contemplated every combination of scenarios in her head.

"Marry Sam, sorry Quinn, but he's just the sweetest. Kill Rory because I can't understand what he's saying half the time. Fuck Santana, because that would be fantastic character research for my future role as the sexually adventurous bisexual Maureen in Rent on Broadway."

If she was going to apologize to me, I cared far more about her discussing how she would _fuck_ Santana than I cared about her marrying Sam.

"Yeah, _sure_ that's why." Brittany contested, clearly referring to Rachel's comment about being "_so gay_" for Santana earlier.

I glanced over at Santana, and the hilarity of the horrified look on her face almost caused me to spit out the cranberry vodka that I was drinking. Her lip was curled in disgust, and the way her eyebrows were scrunched together was absolutely adorable.

"$20." Puck exclaimed, slamming a bill onto the coffee table. Everyone looked at him in confusion.

"This $20 will be yours Lopez if you make out with Berry, right here, right now." He challenged with an exultant grin.

"You've _got_ to me kidding me." Santana hissed.

"C'mon, it's about time for the Jews and Hispanics to come together in the harmony of lady lovin'." He obviously wasn't going to give up on this easily.

Rachel nodded in agreement, and Finn appeared entirely incredulous, choosing to look down at his hands rather than his girlfriend.

"Fine, but if I'm going to do this I want $50." Santana bargained, and my laugh stopped in my throat.

_Wait, what, seriously, Santana?_

Puck gazed in disappointment at his wallet, removing the last bill inside of it.

"I only have another $10."

Rachel was on a mission instantly; her hand was reaching inside Finn's pocket for her boyfriend's wallet. He didn't attempt to inhibit her actions, but he sure wasn't making any movements to help her either.

She swatted another $20 down on the table over the $30 that Puck had placed there.

"$50, there you have it!" She shouted triumphantly.

I was _so_ not drunk enough for this, and that comes from a place of significant intoxication.

"There's your $50, Santana. And don't think you can just get away with a peck. You have to _really_ kiss her." Puck taunted, and intertwined his hands to rest behind his almost completely shaved head.

"Okay, whatever, let me get rid of my gum." Santana rolled her eyes, and got up from her seat. While she was doing that, the whole room seemed to shift forward in anticipation of the outrageousness to come.

"Get up, Finn." She ordered when she returned, and he listened, despite the apprehension on his face. I couldn't remember the last time that she had actually referred to Finn by his name.

"A few ground rules, Hobbit." She started harshly.

_This is seriously going to happen?_

Santana proceeded to straddle Rachel's legs on the couch. Santana was kneeling, hovering above the diva's lap. People began to scurry about the room to get a better viewing angle.

_Yup, definitely going to happen._

"First, your hands stay _here_, there will be no roaming man hands on my body, got it?" She reached for Rachel's arms, and placed them on her own shapely hips.

"Hey now, that's not part of the deal." Puck chastised from the side, but quickly shut up after Santana shot him what I can only assume was a terrifying glare.

"Secondly, if you taste like the constipated zombie's mouth, I will be _so_ done. There's not enough money in the world for that." Rachel nodded, and I cursed myself for choosing this position in the room before Kill-Fuck-Marry started.

I had an unobstructed view, and it would have looked odd for me to suddenly move to an area where I couldn't see much, despite how badly I did not want to see anything.

On the other hand, part of me _was_ incredibly curious, maybe even intrigued.

"Lastly, I understand that you may be rather pleasure deprived dating Clumsy McInadequate Pants over there, but this, right here, this is only going to happen _once. _So you best be savoring it, because this is probably the best thing that's ever going to happen to you in this department."

_God_, _she's cocky. Or is it confidence when it's true? It certainly had been true for me._ _God damn her._

"Perfectly reasonable. I accept your terms, Santana." Rachel said in her usual strange manner.

"Nothing is right in the world right now." A tipsy Mercedes whispered beside me.

Santana lowered herself rather seductively onto Rachel's lap, and the paler girl closed her eyes in anticipation. Santana reached to remove Rachel's stupid knitted beret, and spun it like a Frisbee to the other side of the room.

Rachel's lips parted as Santana leaned forward, and I swear that I heard multiple breaths catch.

Santana's hand pushed back Rachel's hair to cradle her neck, and Rachel's tongue moistened her own lips.

"Do it." Puck cheered from the sidelines.

The room hushed again, as Santana slid her lower lip across Rachel's. Rachel's grip visibly tightened on Santana's hips, and the kiss was underway.

I had many a conflicting thought.

_If she ever thinks that she is kissing me with that mouth again, she is fucking crazy._

_Oh, who am I kidding?_

I wanted to be the one beneath her. I knew first-hand what Rachel must be feeling, and it was glorious.

_Why is Santana so fucking sexy, seriously?_

_This is weird, and gross, and yet not, all at the same time._

There was nothing half-assed about the way Santana was going about this. She was kissing Rachel slow, and she was kissing Rachel deep, and it did not look like it was ending any time soon.

_Oh my god, tongue._

"Fuck yeah!" One of the boys whole-heartedly supported this development.

Santana was clearly controlling the rhythm of the kiss, and Rachel was not complaining, although her eagerness was evident when one of her hands started sliding purposely down from Santana's hip.

Santana corrected the wandering hand almost instantaneously with her hand, returning it forcefully back to her hip.

"Get it." A feminine voice urged, and I was surprised to find that Sadie had entered the room at some point. She obviously had no qualms with this.

So why did I? Sadie was her date. I was just…I didn't know what I was. _Santana's friend, I guess._

_Santana's friend who she had pinned against the wall earlier._

Santana ended the kiss, and promptly removed herself from Rachel's lap. It took Rachel more time than appropriately necessary to open her eyes again, while Santana snatched the money off of the table and mumbled something about "mouthwash" as she promptly exited the room.

Rachel's arms shot straight up and into the air.

"I _am_ Maureen! GREAT PARTY!" She screamed, and gathered her drink from the table.

"Worth every penny." Puck approved, and it was clear by the faces in the room that he wasn't the only one. Others, like Mercedes, looked completely weirded out.

I had never been as possessive over anyone as I was with Santana. And, that was especially fucked up because she wasn't even mine to be possessive over.

Finn had some mixture of anxiety and excitement on his features. _Sick._

"Next game?" Tina suggested with a smile to the room.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter XIX**

**A/N: Greetings lovely readers. I hope you are not tired of me thanking you for all of your reviews, PMs, favorites, and follows, because I am certainly not tired of doing so. I never imagined that I would receive so much wonderful support for my first story.**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

After an extensive dental hygiene routine, I mixed myself a Redbull and vodka in the kitchen. I was starting to feel really tired. In my defense, it had been a ridiculously eventful and both physically and emotionally trying day.

Still, I was having a really good time, and I didn't want to fall asleep on one of the numerous couches in the house, which meant that it was energy drink time. I sipped my drink, leaning against the counter, rotating my left wrist gently, carefully. It didn't feel awesome, but it wasn't as bad as it had been earlier. Maybe it was the alcohol, but either way, I was rather confident that it was going to hurt far more tomorrow.

Overall, I was feeling incredibly conflicted. For starters, earlier I had made out with Quinn yet again. That was three times now, although, be sure to factor in that,_ two_ of them had involved alcohol.

I had no idea what it meant, but Quinn's husky "_I want you_" was on constant replay in my head. I couldn't even begin to count how many times I had fantasized about her saying those exact words to me. Like anything remotely sexual that had happened so far with Quinn, the fantasy was nowhere close to how amazing the reality was.

Before, I was constantly fighting to convince myself that these encounters meant nothing to her, and because of it, I needed to make sure that they meant nothing to me.

But, this wasn't just some girl. This was _Quinn_. I was 17-years-old and I had yet to feel anything stronger than the love I felt for Quinn in eighth grade.

I didn't know if that love was real love, but it _was_ the closest thing to "real love" that I had ever experienced. I did know that at that young age that I was absolutely convinced that it was the real thing.

I hadn't let myself process how I currently felt about Quinn, but this whole making out every couple of weeks thing just did not feel right.

Okay, by "right" I do not mean that it did not feel good. It felt amazingly good, every single time. In fact, somehow, it seemed to get better with every encounter. Maybe that was the scary part.

_Scary._

I may not be great about admitting feelings most of the time, but I could admit that I was scared. I didn't want to be a vulnerable eighth grade heartbroken girl again, that was for damn sure.

I didn't expect this to keep happening. I didn't expect it to happen even once.

For one, Quinn was always striving to be perfect. The perfect cheerleader, the perfect daughter, the perfect straight little virgin, and the perfect student. She wanted to be the best at everything. I did not fit into that picture. If anything, I was in the way. I was the barrier between her and her dreams.

I didn't think that she was the kind to drunkenly make out with a female friend. It just didn't fit into her big picture ambitions, and I felt like everything she did was an attempt to further those ambitions.

Maybe I was just her rebellion. Her one taste of something that no one would approve of, but also, something that no one would ever have to know about. Other people could use me for adventure or orgasms, and as long as they were attractive, I was all for it. I was using them too. But Quinn, I couldn't be used by her, and I sure as hell couldn't use her.

And, despite any reputation that I may have had, I hadn't been trying to use her these past few weeks.

It was like a dream. I had always been one of those people who could realize that they were dreaming. Sometimes, I could even manipulate or control my dreams. In dreams, because I knew that I was dreaming, I did not often fear consequences, I was just there for the experience.

Every time Quinn and I kissed, it _was_ a dream. Not just in the "holy hell, I can't believe this is finally happening" way, but in the "I didn't fear the consequences" way. Except, unlike my nightly slumbers, it wasn't that I didn't realize that there could or would be consequences, it was that I didn't think about them while it was happening, because I couldn't.

I was physically, mentally, and emotionally unable to contemplate consequences when the woman of my dreams was touching me, kissing me, telling me that she wanted me.

_Me._

I sighed, and rolled my eyes. _What was I doing?_

There was no way that Quinn was over analyzing everything like I was.

On the other hand, there was Sadie. I was partially convinced that if I wasn't so screwed up, I would have been dating her by now.

I mean, _come on_. The girl was gorgeous, she was smart, she called me on my shit, and she _liked _me. She didn't just want to fuck me. She was ready to step outside of her comfort zone for me. That was huge, and I would be a fool not to recognize that.

Maybe with more time I would be better prepared for what Sadie was offering, but that would only be if this whole Quinn situation wasn't happening. I couldn't seriously consider committing myself to anyone when Quinn was in my life.

_Whoa._

And there it was. I couldn't appreciate reality when I was living in a fantasy.

People were getting rowdy in the living room. I could hear the increase in excitement from here. Part of me was wondering what they were playing, but part of me was not interested. I tried to avoid games that involved me revealing any private part of myself. Kill-Fuck-Marry was bad enough.

After all, it had ended with me kissing Rachel Berry. I was not at all, in any realm or universe attracted to RuPaul. But, I would have to admit, at least to myself, that she was not a horrible kisser.

She was no Quinn, but it wasn't a terrible or unbearable experience. She even looked pretty decent, since she had foregone animal sweaters for a simple skirt and blouse.

I've kissed worse. Plus, I received $50 out of the deal.

"Hey Sanny." The sweet familiar tone interrupted my "me" time, as Brittany entered the kitchen.

"Hey Brit Brit." I responded automatically.

"How are you doing?" She asked sincerely, and continued around the kitchen island to situate herself across from me.

"Better than expected." I answered honestly, if vaguely. It was true. I should be in a closet or a corner crying my eyes out somewhere.

"That doesn't mean much considering everything." She was right about that. Without asking my permission, she took my glass from me, and took a swig from it. It wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary months ago, but things were different now.

"I'm doing okay, I promise." I tried to find her blue eyes with my brown.

"I've missed you." She whispered simply, and the sadness reflected in my best friend's, well, former best friend's eyes, hurt my heart.

"I've missed you too, Brit." It was true. I missed her every day. Things were simple with Brit. At least, they used to be.

"Maybe we could watch a movie this week?" The long legged-blonde pleaded, stepping away from the island and in my direction.

"Let's do it." I would do anything to get my friendship back with Brittany to the way things were before sex complicated things.

"Great! You know, people are going to be even more scared of you than usual now. I hope they still remember that I'll cut a bitch, because I really like having all of my homework done for me, and the Mathletes do such a good job of peeling my grapes."

I was still laughing when Artie rolled in a few seconds later to collect his girlfriend.

* * *

Here I had just been contemplating how complicated my friendship with Quinn was because of some kissing, and the glaring example of what can happen to a friendship when things go too far walked in to remind me of the consequences.

_Well played, universe. Well played._

I needed to find Quinn. I had to know what she was thinking. It might not be pretty, and I hated talking about feelings, but I would hate losing her again even more.

I popped my head into the living room to find Mike making some sort of dinosaur noise. People were repeating it around the room. I believed we had played this game before, and I was pretty sure that the goal was not to laugh. Most people were failing pretty miserably at that.

The only real contenders were Mike, Puck, Sugar Motta (surprisingly), and Sadie. Sugar Motta's noise was especially shrieky, and still, no break from her.

Sadie appeared completely unfazed. She was good. Mercedes was cheering her on. The two of them had seemed to be getting closer lately.

I checked the foyer, the dining room, and even the office without finding a sign of Quinn. I _did_ however discover two people that I didn't recognize about to get busy against the bookshelf. I had them out the front door before the guy could zip up his pants.

_Another extra tip for the cleaning lady._

Quinn was on the porch when I finally found her. Remarkably, no one else was outside. The beautiful blonde's eyes were down, tracing the wooden boards beneath her, sucking thoughtfully on the tiny straw that was between her lips.

She was a vision. Her flawless ivory skin practically glowed in the moonlight.

She startled when she eventually noticed my presence, but her lips quickly spread into a mocking smile.

"You _know_ that I'm never going to let you forget that, don't you?" She shook her head at me, causing the beautiful tresses that were down to sway.

_That?_

"That" could be a number of things that had happened that night. Making out with her upstairs, getting her to participate in Flippy Cup, telling everyone that she would be my "Fuck" in Kill-Fuck-Marry, or…._oh._

"That's cruel. It was horrific enough just to have to endure it." I finally got it. She meant kissing Berry.

"It didn't look like you hated it." She raised one eyebrow in my direction.

"I've had better." I was near her now, close enough to see the fleck of orange in her eyes.

"Oh yeah?" Her voice was breathy as she glanced in the direction of the patio doors.

_Was she worried that someone would see us standing so close?_

The thought made my stomach turn.

"Yes. Definitely." I met her eyes to illustrate my sincerity. I couldn't imagine anyone being better than Quinn.

Her knowing smile was a satisfied one. She titled her head slightly to the left, a brief flash of uncertainty coloring her features. If it was a sign of insecurity, it vanished as quickly as it appeared, and she touched her lips to mine.

_Cranberries._

It was such a sweet kiss. Not just because of how lovely the taste of her lips were, but because our lips weren't moving. I was able to just focus on and appreciate the soft pressure of her lips against mine.

When we eventually parted, she reached behind her to place her glass on the railing, and then brought her freshly manicured hand to my face. She brushed away part of my hair that was in her way, examining my cheekbones, lips, and jaw with those hazel eyes.

What I would have done to be a mind reader in that moment.

_What was I doing?_ _I came out here to __**talk**__ about kissing, not to do more of it._

_Fuck it, just one more._

She leaned into me as I leaned into her, and while this kiss was definitely sweet, it was different than the last. It was a slow burn. The need conveyed in the kiss was not one of simple lust. It was searching. Her hand was on my cheek, guiding me further into her.

Our lips moved together in deliberate harmony. It was almost like dancing, except neither of us were leading. In this current endeavor, we were equals. We kissed as partners, with identical shares of dominance and submission. I gave to her as she gave to me, and she took from me as I took from her.

Something akin to euphoria was waving through my entire body, and my heart beat seemed to slow down rather than speed up.

I massaged her tongue with mine, and she sighed into my mouth.

When our eyes opened again, I knew things would never be the same for me.

There is an "oh there you are" moment for everyone. For me, however, it was an "oh, there you are again" moment. It was always her.

"I think I like this porch." She smiled and our intimate eye contact continued. I could tell that she was trying to regulate her breathing.

I nodded in agreement, swallowing in an attempt to find my voice. I took the hand that she had allowed to fall from my cheek, and intertwined my fingers with hers between us.

"So…that happened. Again." _What? Really?_ She turned me into such an awkward kid sometimes.

Quinn laughed at my poor effort to articulate myself, and gave my hand a light and encouraging squeeze.

"Ugh." I groaned, and tried again. "Do you think that maybe we could talk about it sometime? Sober?"

_There it was._ Not my best work, but I was proud of myself all the same. I'm not one to talk about feelings, and I sure as hell did not typically instigate the discussion of feelings.

Quinn appeared to be pleasantly surprised. Her smile was borderline shy. I say borderline, because shy is a difficult thing to truly achieve when you're one of the most popular girls in school.

"Yes. I would like that." She raised my left hand, releasing my right hand from the twine of our fingers, sliding my bracelet up my arm slightly, she gently kissed my wrist.

_I was so fucked._

"That wasn't so painful was it?" She asked playfully, and I couldn't help but smile at her. I knew she meant asking her to talk rather than the caring kiss of my wrist. It was more difficult than she would ever know. I was sure of that.

We both dropped our hands when we saw a flash of body movement inside.

"We'll have to see how the conversation goes before I can answer that." I responded honestly, and she nudged me with a swing of her hip as we walked back inside. This was entirely new ground for me and I felt exceedingly exposed and vulnerable. I desperately hoped that I wasn't going to regret it.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Things were starting to get fuzzy. I officially needed to slow down on the drinking. The last thing I wanted was to be _that_ girl. Not tonight. Not in front of Santana.

_Santana._

_Holy hell, Santana._

Today, tonight, things had shifted within me and between us.

_I have feelings for Santana Lopez._

I was finally able to admit that to myself. I say that as if it were an accomplishment, when in reality it was just impossible to deny any longer. It was truly undeniable.

I blame that second kiss on the porch. I had never _been _kissed like that, I had never _kissed_ like that. It was flawless, it was amazing, and I wasn't sure that my feet had returned to the ground yet.

Not to sound too much like Usher, but I had it _bad_.

To want to experiment with someone as attractive and capable as Santana wasn't so much a big deal, I mean even Berry wanted a crack at it. But I couldn't call this experimentation.

You don't experiment when there is already certainty. I didn't need to try things with Santana to figure out if I would like it_._

_I already liked it. I already wanted it. I already wanted her._

Body shots had started. Thankfully, I wasn't the sloppiest person in the room. That's always good.

Tina was taking a shot off of Dakota, and Puck was next in line to do the same.

Santana was sitting on the counter laughing with Mike as he handed her a drink. I loved her laugh. She practically said "ha, ha, ha" when she laughed genuinely and it was adorable.

She had refused every body shot offer so far. Even when Berry tried to entice her by saying that Santana could be another first for her. Santana shot her down so fast and so hard, that I was pretty sure that the burn from the verbal attack would last a lifetime.

Santana wouldn't even take one off of Sadie when the redhead had been on the table. Her eyes didn't even roam over Sadie's, admittedly appealing, exposed torso while Sugar Motta was taking the shot. Believe me, I was definitely watching Santana's eyes for that part.

It also seemed like she had been finding clever ways of avoiding Sadie's typical physical attentions. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part, but it was almost as if Santana was doing everything she could to demonstrate her respect for this limbo phase we were in until we could talk properly.

Her head dipped down to take a sip of her drink, and she looked at me from beneath her long gorgeous lashes as she did so.

It was going to be really difficult for me to prevent myself from seeking her out later once it was lights out. _Really difficult. Another good reason for me to stop drinking._

Ciara's One-Two Step was on, and Santana was shoulder dancing with Mike, her feet creating a rhythm of her own to the beat.

I needed to stop staring before someone noticed.

"Hey Quinn." Mercedes saved me from having to find another distraction, getting my attention with her hand on my shoulder blade. "Will you come talk to Brittany? She's been crying in the bathroom for a while now, and she won't let anyone in."

My face fell, and I followed Mercedes to the bathroom in question.

"Hey Brit, can I come in?" I knocked on the door lightly, frowning at the muffled sobs from beyond the door.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah, it's me. Will you unlock the door, honey?"

"I just want to be alone." Her sad little voice was heartbreaking.

"Well that's no fun. I'm the only one who will come in if you unlock the door. Please Brit? I need to thank you for stopping me from going all "cut a bitch" Brittany style at Prom, anyway." That got her to laugh. _Good. Progress._

After some shuffling noises inside, the door clicked, and bloodshot blue eyes greeted me.

"Just you?"

"Just me." I reassured, and she sat down, cross-legged with her back against the bathtub. I closed the door, locking it again for her sake.

"Did something happen with Artie?" I started, sitting down on the toilet after realizing that my current equilibrium was not so conducive to standing for a long period of time.

She shook her head, and released a bitter laugh.

"Someone else?" I prodded gently. I thought I knew what was coming, unfortunately. Only one person has ever had this powerful of an impact on Brittany.

"Yeah. It's stupid." She put her head in her hands, and I shook my head immediately in response, crossing the room to sit down next to her.

"Don't say that. Your feelings are never stupid."

"We used to be together all the time and now we're not, and I have to watch this bitchy girl come around constantly." Another bitter laugh. "She's not even really a bitch. No more so than you or Santana are anyway. No offense."

"None taken." And I didn't take offense. We were called HBICs for a reason.

"I actually think that I would like her if she wasn't Santana's new…whatever she is. She's always right next to Santana and that's where I used to be." She brushed away some tears with the back of her hand.

"I never cared that much when Santana slept with other girls. This girl though, Santana is treating her as more than a fuck buddy. Something that she just couldn't bring herself to do with me." She hiccupped when she finished, and despite her disheveled state, it was cute.

I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to me. She looked so broken.

I forced myself to focus on my friend rather than how her words made _me_ feel. I obviously had my own issues with Sadie. Similar issues, actually. But, I could deal with that later.

"I know for a fact that you mean a lot more to her than Sadie does. Isn't that why you two stopped…you know…so that you could make sure that you didn't lose your friendship?" Another of my own issues that I would have to deal with later. That one felt especially _not_ good coming out of my mouth.

"Yeah. It's hard though. Really hard. Santana is one of those people where everyone either loves her or they hate her. No one feels "meh" about Santana. They're always passionate, one way or another. I envy her enemies sometimes, only because it's _so_ hard sometimes to be on team love."

_Wow._

Sometimes this girl could be absolutely brilliant, wise even. It was a perfect way to describe Santana. Santana _was_ passion. She was fire, and wherever there was fire, things burned.

The heat that fire provides is wonderful, even necessary sometimes. Like Santana, people are drawn to fire. Some people, however, like pyromaniacs, are even obsessed to the point of psychosis. Fire was dangerous, as was Santana.

Using the emotional rollercoaster analogy again, I can point to this moment in time where the rollercoaster was cresting, and it was currently building up speed for its swift descent.

What I didn't know then, was that it wasn't going to be just a normal dip down before the coaster climbed its next incline. Because on this ride, the tracks were missing, and I was on a coaster destined to fall straight down for a devastating impact with the ground.

_The worst part of all of this?_

**_It was my fault._**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter XX**

**A/N: I am sure many of you are just as busy if not busier than I am so thank you so much for taking the time to read, and for those of you who review, special thanks for doing that as well.**

**Final note, I need to give proper credit to user LostInNaya'sEyes for her friendship name idea of "MerSadie" for Mercedes and Sadie. Thank you, LostInNaya'sEyes, for all of the amazing feedback.**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I stumbled my way down the unnecessarily long staircase, shielding my eyes reflexively from all of the light pouring in from the various windows.

"Good morning, Quinn!" Mercedes' mockingly chirpy voice greeted me, followed immediately by at least one other person's greeting by the time I reached the large dining table.

I mumbled some sort of response that I hoped managed to sound something like "good morning" as I plopped my butt down in the nearest chair. I continued to cover my eyes with my hands, until I just sunk my head down into the shelter of my folded arms on the table.

"There are curtains in this house. I'm sure of it. Why aren't we using them?" I snarled into my arms. It was either too muffled, or whoever else who was in the room was too hungover to respond, or people, like Mercedes were too engaged in their own conversations to bother.

"So…did you?" Mercedes was asking someone. She was one of the biggest information hoarders/gossip mongers at our school. I loved her, but sometimes I wish she didn't make everyone else's business her business all the time.

I didn't hear a verbal response from her conversational counterpart, if one was given, but I was only half-listening anyway. I was busy dreaming of giant glasses of ice cold water.

"I knew it!" Mercedes excitedly exclaimed far too loudly for my current state. _Did she just do the Hercules clap from The Nutty Professor?_

"How was it?" She was in total juicy gossip mode; it was all too evident in her voice. She had lowered her volume, but in that particular way that conspirators do.

"_So _good." Sadie emphasized. The voice of Mercedes' co-conspirator wasn't as familiar as Mercedes' voice, but I still recognized it. _Ugh, what were they now? BFFs? Were people going to start referring to them by one name like MerSadie?_

I could feel someone sitting down next to me, and whoever it was softly stroked my hair.

"You really couldn't hear it, Mercedes? Mike and I were _two_ doors down and how "good" it was, came in loud and clear." _Tina! _I was grateful that it wasn't a creeper hand on my head.

"Eek, that's embarrassing. I'm sorry, T." To Sadie's credit, she did seem legitimately embarrassed, although I really hadn't been focused on the content of the dialogue so far. _But it's "T" now, really?_

"Ha, it's fine. I've been overheard once or twice." Tina laughed.

"Oh don't I know it." Mercedes teased. "Alright girl, dish before everyone else wakes up. How did it work with the whole damaged wrist situation?"

_Damaged wrist? _The mention of that caused me to bring a tad more focus to the conversation, but it was still hard to hear anything over the pounding of my own head.

"Oh god. Well, I'm not going to go into graphic detail, but for one, she's definitely ambidextrous in that department, and for two, I hope you don't think that _that_ is the only way that women have sex. It was all _very_ much worth the wait though, I will say that." I could hear the satisfied smile in her voice.

_Oh. Sex. They were talking about sex. Gross. I didn't want to hear about Sadie's sex life. No class, I tell you. No class. Even if Mercedes was egging her on._

"Whoa, hold up, and let's rewind things back shall we. That was ya'll's first time?" Mercedes pried in disbelief. My head was still in my arms, but I was sure that she threw up a hand or two when she said it.

_Wait._

The pieces of the dialogue were starting to come together for me, and a knot was starting to twist and tie itself inside my already unstable stomach.

"Yes. Though not for lack of trying on my part."

_Loud noises. Damaged wrist. First time having sex._

_Please, no._

I lifted my head slowly from the cover of my hands, blinking until my eyes adjusted to the light. Sadie was sitting across from Mercedes in one of _Santana's _NFL jerseys. She was leaning forward, looking so _fucking_ pleased with herself. I wanted to knock that smile right off of her face.

"So no breakfast for us this morning?" Mercedes whined playfully.

Sadie laughed and shook her head. "Very doubtful. It might be awhile before she emerges. She didn't exactly get any sleep last night."

_No. No. No. It can't. She wouldn't._

"Well it _best _have been as good as you say it was if I'm missing out on getting my breakfast on because of it." Mercedes gave her sassy retort.

"I can't even begin to describe how…" Sadie began, rolling her eyes into the back of her head.

Suddenly movement was not an issue for my body, and I was up and charging out of the room.

"Sam?!"

"Sam?! I was screaming it, searching frantically throughout the first floor. I was finally met with a groan in the living room.

"Hmm?" He was lying on his back on the couch, his eyes scrunched, although still closed.

"Take me home. Now." I needed to leave. I needed to get out. If they all thought that my freak out at Prom was bad that was nothing compared to what I was going to do to that fucking bitch if I didn't get far far away as soon as possible.

"I'm not feeling very well, Qu…" Sam complained.

"Fine, if you're going to be a little bitch about it, I'll walk home."

"Whoa, that's a little harsh don't you think?" Frankenteen muttered from the other couch, his long legs draping over the end of it, his eyes still closed as well. Rachel must still be refusing to give it up to him. _Smart girl._

I spun on my heels rather than smashing a lamp into Finn's head, which was my first instinct. As soon as I found my purse, and my overnight bag, I was out the front door in seconds. Tears were burning my eyes before my feet even hit the sidewalk.

* * *

_So here I am, a few short hours before discovering that Sadie and Santana got it on for the first time just a hallway away from where I was sleeping, and Brittany is telling me just how badly she misses her "sweet lady kisses"._

_The amount of alcohol I have consumed is really starting to weigh down on me, and it is doing nothing but increase the current pressure building in my chest._

_Miraculously, I am able to sufficiently calm Brittany down enough that she is able to emerge from the bathroom and rejoin the party._

_I myself do not exit said bathroom. Instead, I lie to my friend and tell her that I have to make use of the room for its actual facilities._

_I sit down hard on the edge of the bathtub once I lock the door behind her, and I almost lose my balance and fall back into the tub itself. Using the shower curtain, I right myself, and the freakout floodgates proceed to open._

_If the conversation with Santana actually happens, I think there are four main outcomes. I am not saying that any of these outcomes are more likely than the others, at least not yet._

_But, anywho, first, Santana or I or both of us could agree to just be friends, and refrain from any future kissing activities._

_Second, Santana and I could agree that we enjoy these activities and continue to participate in said activities without strings or expectations._

_Third, Santana or I or both of us could agree to end our friendship due to complications altogether._

_Four, Santana and I could decide that this is more than just friendship, and with that in mind we could move forward._

_The first outcome terrifies me, despite its obvious benefits of simplifying things. Santana and Brittany had agreed to just be friends, and look at the state that Brittany is in. She tried to cut a bitch, and she's crying in a bathroom about the same girl weeks later. I don't even know if I could be "just friends" with Santana at this point. I don't know how to go back. I don't know how to turn off these new feelings, and desires. I don't know how to stop being jealous of anyone who experiences her in ways that I don't._

_I think it would honestly break my heart to hear Santana say that we should just be friends, to hear her say that she doesn't want to kiss me again. To hear her say that there is no potential for more here. We'd barely been physical, and that would devastate me. That fear is almost enough to make me want to not have the conversation at all._

_The second outcome is no more appealing. Well, except for that I really do enjoy the activities. This route I could enjoy being physical with her without anyone having to know about it. My insanely conservative parents could continue to think that I'm their sweet little virgin, and I wouldn't have to deal with the judgment at school either. Also, Brittany would never need to know that her two best friends were getting intimate._

_But this option does nothing for my jealousy problems. It also does nothing for my heart. I can only imagine how difficult it would be for me to go even farther with Santana without my feelings for her deepening. Also, this would mean that Santana doesn't like me enough to want anything more than a physical relationship. Maybe I don't appeal to her in a romantic way, just a physical way perhaps. What if she doesn't feel anywhere near as strongly for me as I do for her? That sucks._

_Even if I were to put my current personal feelings aside, this would be a risky option based on the evidence of her past friends with benefits relationships alone. I couldn't name a single person that she had a relationship like that with who didn't fall for her. Even Puck did, and he likes his casual sex even more than Santana does._

_The third option, which is arguably the safest, is by far my least favorite. Sure, I won't be tempted to kiss her every time we are hanging out, because we wouldn't be hanging out. Neither of us would be betraying Brittany's trust because there would be no us in any form._

_I couldn't handle that again. It was bad enough when I was 13, and back then I didn't even realize the full extent of what I was losing. I can't let her just walk away from me again._ _Oh my god, I hope that's not what she thinks is best. I hope that's not what she wants to talk about._

_Option number four. Sigh. The Holy Grail of awesome and awful rolled into one. I like Santana. I know that. I know that I like her as more than just a friend. I even know that I don't want her to be with anyone else, but I don't know if I want what that exclusivity means._

_Do I want a relationship with a girl? Could I even be in a relationship with a girl?_

_Can Santana be in a relationship? As far as I know, she's never been in a real one. She's had some short stints with guys, but never anything serious. I don't even know if she's capable of being faithful. I've done the relationship thing, I've been a girlfriend, and I don't think she really ever has. She probably doesn't even know what it means to be someone's girlfriend._

_But then I look and see all of the sweet things she's done for me already, and it makes me second guess those thoughts. Even during our exhausting fight in the storage room, she made sure that I didn't fall over, and she made sure that I wrapped my foot. She remembered how her mom used to make my omelets, and she cooked one for me without me even having to ask. She made sure that I scored the winning touchdown at the Powderpuff game. She got me my Captain spot back. And those were just the things that I knew about. Who knows all of the other things she had done without me knowing?_

_The better I get to know this older and more mature Santana, the more I realize what a caretaker she is. A sweetheart even, although I'm not sure she has ever been described as that before._

_Yes, this girl is Santana, but I can't pretend that her being her makes things magically okay in the world that we live in. After tonight, and arguably even before tonight, Santana is officially the most badass person that I know and look what happened to her. People fear me as well, sure, but I'm not as strong as she is. And I don't just mean physically, because physically the difference in strength is blatantly obvious._

_Santana doesn't seem to absorb insults like I do. We can both throw some verbal daggers of our own, but I tend to internalize the knives that are thrown back. Furthermore, it sucks, but I care more about what people think than she does. I know she cares to a certain extent, but not as much as she used to, and she does a brilliant job of acting like she doesn't care at all._

_Brittany was another huge issue with this option. We both care about her so much, and neither of us want to hurt her. I suppose we could attempt to hide a relationship from her and from everyone else, but who knows how that would work or how long that would last. If she was so destroyed by some stranger coming into the fold, than I'm not sure she could recover if I, one of her best friends, started dating Santana. That would be a massive betrayal on all fronts._

_Even before the potential outcomes of this conversation, I've already started to drift away from Brittany because of Santana. Santana has been drawing lines in the friendship sand with her, and when given the option, I have chosen to spend more time with Santana rather than Brittany. I definitely feel guilty about that. I know Brit needs me right now._

_My family's reaction would be even worse. If I hadn't miscarried when I did, my family would have kicked me out as soon as I started to show. I can think of only one thing that my father would condemn me for more than promiscuity, and that would be homosexuality. I am not ready to call myself gay or a homosexual or anything like that, but that is how he would see it, and my mom is far too weak to fight the will of my father._

_Who would have thought that between the two of us, I was going to be the one to have an emotional freak out about this?_

_I was friggin' thrilled when Santana finally suggested that we talk about things. I had wanted to suggest it so many times, in fact, I even brought up our first kiss when we were at Puck's bonfire. But I was afraid to push too hard or too far because I know Santana has a tendency to run when things get heavy or emotional. Admittedly, I was also afraid of any conversation that we would have._

_So yes, I would be a complete and utter idiot not to recognize how big of a deal it is for Santana to suggest such a conversation. She wouldn't bring it up if she didn't think it was important. That was yet another scary aspect to this whole thing. After what happened with Brittany, I can imagine why she would think that discussing these things was a necessary evil. It means that she probably wanted to go forward or backward, and I am not sure that I'm ready for either._

_I can't just refuse to talk to her though, because this is such a huge step for her. For the Santana that I know, this was the equivalent of her stepping out naked in the middle of Ohio winter. Sure, she seems like she has been maturing at rapid speed the past few months, but I highly doubt that things like this suddenly came very easy to her._

_In summary, I am freaking the fuck out. It's the worst time for my last few shots/drinks to be kicking in, but they are. Adding insult to crazy injury._

_Suddenly, the bathroom is starting to feel claustrophic, and I need out. Now._

_I fail at my first attempt to push my way out of the door, having forgotten both that the door was locked, and that I needed to pull to exit. I realize those things one try at a time, and on my third attempt, I am free._

_Someone has turned up the volume of the music. The house seems to pulsate from it. Tina bumps into me as I enter the living room area, and although it is a soft hit, it almost sends me to the ground._

_"Whoa there, buddy." She helps me to regain my balance, and sings a line of "Lean On Me". I do just that._

_The furniture has been moved against the wall to make room for dancing. You would think people would have had their fill earlier, but nope._

_The beautiful source of my confusion is seated on the arm of one of the couches against the wall laughing, and Kurt is doing his weird shimmy dance in front of her. Blaine is gliding back and forth in his socks on the hardwood floor behind them. They are cute._

_Sam has now switched places with Tina as my leaning post, except he does not just want to stand there like Tina did for me. He wants to dance._

_He's doing some strange John Travolta version of the fist pump, and I try my best to imitate him._

_I like Sam. I may not like him romantically, but he is such a good guy. And he's simple. My parents would love him. He would never pressure me for sex. He's easy to talk to even if he's kinda dorky. He's my Prom King. We make the picture perfect dream high school couple._

_He's closer to me now. I can smell his cologne. It's a nice smell. I think the song has changed, the pulsing has slowed somewhat._

_He would never leave me for the hobbit. He would never cheat on me. He wouldn't lie to his friends and tell them that we did things that we didn't. Our relationship would not cause the ruin of other friendships._

_His hands are on my hips and he is helping me sway back and forth with him in a noble attempt to follow the beat._

_His isn't complicated or unpredictable. It isn't dangerous or risky to be with him. He is safe._

_Maybe that's why I don't fight it when he starts kissing me. I wish I could say that I am blacked out, but I'm not. I am very, very, drunk, yes, but I will remember this in the morning._

_I will remember kissing him back. I will remember that just a few minutes before, Santana was only halfway across the room from where we are standing now. Maybe she has moved since then. But, I don't know. I don't know because I am allowing the mixture of alcohol, fear, and anxiety to control me._

_I have no idea how long the kiss lasts. It's too sloppy to be enjoyable, probably on both of our parts. I thought it might make me feel better. I thought it might make me feel normal. I thought it might make me feel safe._

_Needless to say, this kiss does none of those things. I push him away from me gently._

_"Are you okay?" He asks as soon as he sees my face. Who knows what my face looks like right now._

_I nod. I lie. I excuse myself as quickly as I can, grabbing my overnight bag that I had stashed behind the stairs earlier, before I climb my way up to find a room._

_I choose a room farther down than I was in last time, and luckily, it has no occupants._

_Finally, a break._

_I scramble into the change of clothes that I have brought, without incident, and I fall onto the bed with something between a groan and a sigh._

_I feel sick, and not just because the room is spinning._

_Sam is a great guy, I was right about that earlier, but he's not mine to use._

_I can't lead him on and allow him to think that we're on the same page. He deserves more than that._

_Maybe a younger Quinn would have had fewer qualms about using someone like Sam as a pawn in the game of popularity, but I'm better than that._

_I will fix it tomorrow. I have to let him go before he becomes even more attached._

_Gah, I am such an idiot._

_I don't want to even begin to think about whether Santana saw Sam and me making out. Would she care if she did see? Would someone tell her about it if she didn't see? It isn't exactly a news worthy event, especially considering how incredibly eventful the night had been. Me kissing my pseudo boyfriend Sam at the end of a drunken night is nothing compared to everything else._

_But, ugh. Now I'm even more terrified of our future conversation. If she'll still want to have it._

_I have to go to sleep. The sooner I fall asleep, the more clear-headed I will be to figure everything out tomorrow._

_Strangely, as I eventually succumb to sleep, it is almost as if I can hear Santana's name repeated faintly in the distance._


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter XXI**

**A/N: We have surpassed 300 reviews! Holy cow. I can't even...you know what? I just won't. I'll give you this chapter instead :).**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Nothing felt real about that particular Monday. There was no way that my alarm clock sounded at the appropriate time for starters; it was way too soon for it to be Monday morning.

Conversely, I felt like it had been weeks since we had classes rather than just two days. So much had happened in such little time that it was almost impossible for me wrap my mind around all of it.

Saturday was easily one of the best _and_ one of the worst nights of my life. For starters, it really hit home for me how much I had changed and how much my life had changed since freshmen year when people started referring to me as "Satan". I didn't find pleasure in other people's pain anymore. I didn't care about a crown. I cared about having a good time with my friends. Friends like Tina, who weren't going to do anything for my popularity or status. I did things for people without there being anything in it for me.

I was really beginning to let people in. Interestingly enough, as far as I could tell, people liked what I was showing them.

My parents may have constructively abandoned me, but I was making my own family here in these halls, in that choir room, and on that Cheerio practice field.

As for one of the worst parts, I experienced firsthand the extreme hatred that exists out there for people like me. I didn't have the time to process that part yet. Not really. I was growing up, certainly, but I was far from an emotional genius.

There was good that came of that violence, however, and that good came in the form of my friends. The support I received after was absolutely overwhelming. From Puck risking his own handsome face to fight for me, to all of the hugs, texts, calls, emails, and Facebook messages, it was more support than I could have ever expected.

I was sure that many other people were afraid to approach me about what happened, and I didn't blame them for that. It was an extremely sensitive topic, and I was not the most approachable person.

But, the people who did reach out were all very respectful. Most of the messages were simple like "I'm glad you're okay" or "Let me know if there is anything I can do". No one begged me for more information.

Maybe it was because they didn't need more information with that video online. I couldn't believe that I didn't find out about the video until Sunday. I didn't watch it. I didn't think I ever would. But, apparently it had thousands of views already. It explained how everyone was privy to the details though.

I wondered if there was a way to get it down from the internet. Although the damage was done, it made me feel exposed and vulnerable just having it there for the world to see. Alternatively, maybe it could help with awareness or something.

_Who knows._ I wasn't going to chase down the kid who put it up or anything like that. However, it did kinda bother me to find out that Artie showed the video to the whole party. _That's pretty messed up._

But anyway, back to the good. Part of me didn't understand how I could have so many people like this in my life when I had been anything but a good person for so long.

My Cheerios, for example, who I spend most practices ordering around and yelling at, surrounded me on the field that morning in what was probably the quantitatively largest hug I have ever been in. Despite Nationals coming up that very weekend, Coach Sue waited more than a few heartbeats before shouting for everyone to get their "sappy asses" into formation.

It was almost enough for me to lose it. I hadn't cried about everything yet.

While I'm being honest, I couldn't remember the last time I cried, period.

As for the rest of Saturday, my after prom party was ridiculous. Ridiculous in a good way, for the most part. Everyone seemed like they had a great time, and people must have stuck around in the morning for a while because most of the cleaning was done before I dragged my ass out of bed.

_Bed. _

Alright, so I made this giant step, in the land of Santana anyway, and I asked Quinn if we could talk about us. We had two _amazing_ encounters on Saturday, and I finally convinced myself that I needed to just suck it up and have an adult conversation about things.

I didn't think I had ever put myself out there like that. It wasn't my style, but I had thought that she was worth it.

When she agreed to talk, she had seemed happy about it, but I obviously misread her. I obviously misread the whole fucking situation. I almost believed, after our second kiss on the porch, that she might have been feeling some degree of what I was feeling.

I didn't want to risk fucking it all up after that, and I purposely toned down my flirtations the rest of the night, and avoided standing or sitting anywhere near my redheaded date.

I didn't want Quinn to think that I was being casual about everything. It was serious for me. _Very serious._ I wasn't ready to jump on the roof and proclaim my endless love for Quinn Fabray, but as scary as it was, I wanted that honest conversation with her.

So I'm all, "I'm going to be a nun, albeit a foul mouthed one, until we have this conversation" and she's all "I'm going to make out with Trouty Mouth like it's my job while you're just a few feet away."

_Message received. Not exactly on the same page there. _

I didn't throw a fit, or shove Sam like she had shoved Sadie. _Oh, about that. _ Because of the chaos that had happened right after Quinn and Sadie's celebrity bitch match, I hadn't given any thought to their quarrel. _But that's a whole other issue._

As I was saying, I didn't flip out or make a scene, I simply left. I wasn't going to watch. I was done with the night. That was the last colossal drop in my emotionally exhausted bucket.

We weren't in a relationship, but if she had wanted her lips on that froggy mouth so badly, couldn't she have gone to another room to do it? She knew I was right there. It was like she had _wanted_ me to see it.

_Saved her a conversation, I suppose. _

I didn't even have the energy to be angry, not then, not now. I was stupid to have had even a shred of hope that she felt something for me. It was even more stupid to think that she would understand how much of a big deal it was for me to ask her to talk in the first place. _Hell_, maybe she did understand, but just didn't care.

I was numb.

I left the party, and went straight up to my bedroom. I wanted to sleep off the night's events, and I hoped that my mind would gift me with just one night of Quinnless dreams. _Just one night._

When Sadie entered the room shortly after I did, it felt right. It felt like the universe was telling me to wake the fuck up. The woman downstairs was just some middle school fantasy, and the woman in front of me was the mature reality.

It was a different sort of disappearing act than sleep was, but it was _far_ more effective.

I made sure to show her how grateful I was for her attentions, her consistency, and her openness. I spent hours demonstrating my gratitude.

Sadie was right, we did have many things in common, and I understood what it meant for her to have suggested the possibility of a relationship between us. Not only was it outside of her comfort zone, it was also really brave of her.

And all I had the courage to do was ask Quinn to talk.

Quinn was long gone before I came downstairs the next morning. Everyone was gone by then, actually. Sadie left me a note on the fridge saying that she would give me back my jersey the next time she saw me, which she hoped was sooner than our dance class on Thursday. _Smooth. _

She's definitely the most experienced girl that I've ever been with, and it was really nice to not have to play teacher all night.

Quinn didn't contact me at all on Sunday, which was fine, I mean, what would be the point? She said all she needed to say by making out with Sam in front of me.

She didn't make any effort to speak to me before or after cheer practice, and I sure as hell didn't approach her. _What would I say? "Don't worry, I won't try to kiss you again"?_

We didn't pass notes in Trig like we usually do, and I was more than fine with that as well.

Fine was a great way to describe how I felt in general. It was my go-to answer whenever someone asked me if I was okay throughout the day.

_Fine is a good way to describe numb right? _

I caught people staring at me more so than usual. I even overheard some guy whisper "I worship you, Santana Lopez" as I walked by him in the hallway. _Weirdo._

When I walked into my AP Lit class a few seniors were watching the video of the fight, but they turned it off as soon as they saw me. I didn't say anything.

Overall, considering the weekend I had, the day was pretty normal.

And then there was Glee.

I paused just after the doorway when I entered the Choir Room. It was empty. Well, the chairs and equipment were all there, but no people. After a brief pause, I decided to take a seat anyway. It was a little awkward sitting in there by myself, but it was also nice to have a minute of quiet.

I wondered if we were supposed to be in the auditorium that day, and I didn't get the memo. I resolved to check there in five minutes or so, if no one came. I really hoped that Coach Sue hadn't found some way to cancel the club again. It's pathetic, but I needed Glee. It was my most important outlet, and these were my people.

_If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea,  
I'll sail the world to find you  
If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see,  
I'll be the light to guide you_

I heard Kurt's beautifully unique high-pitched voice before he stepped into the room. My first instinct was to ask him where everyone else was, and my second, was to ask him what the hell he was doing. Something else inside of me told me to do neither, and I listened.

He looked right at me as he sang, his eyes begging me to absorb every word.

_Find out what we're made of  
When we are called to help our friends in need_

Puck sang the next lines, arriving inside the room while strumming his guitar with the strap around his neck. I didn't know which one of us smiled first, but the smile he gave me as he sang his part was one of the sweetest Puck smiles that I had ever seen.

I had always loved his voice. _So much better than Finn's._ I never understood why Finn was given so many parts when, in my opinion, all of the guys in Glee were better singers.

_Oh honey, I already know what you're made of. _

I didn't mean that sexually. I meant that he didn't have to prove anything to me after Saturday. I knew I could always count on him.

_Oh god, Santana, don't cry. Don't you dare._

This was one danger of opening up to people. You risk them seeing you cry.

How do you begin to repay or thank someone for something like that? Puck and I have been close for a long time, but what he did, I was never going to forget it.

_You can count on me like 1 2 3  
I'll be there  
And I know when I need it I can count on you like 4 3 2  
And you'll be there  
Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah_

Tina and Mercedes entered together, walking side by side, their arms around each other's waists. _How, precious. _Tina and Mercedes had become two of my closest friends. I hated that I had wasted so much time on only hanging out with cheerleaders and football players.

_Hey, what if I had skipped Glee today? _It _would_ have been kinda funny for them to all come in to sing to some empty chairs.

_If you toss and you turn and you just can't fall asleep  
I'll sing a song  
beside you  
And if you ever forget how much you really mean to me  
Everyday I will  
remind you_

Finn, Brittany, Joe, Sam, and Sugar were the next ones to file in. Although I was pretty sure that Sugar was not singing. _Smart choice._ That girl did not sound good. _Ever._

I blew a kiss to Brittany, and she made a point to catch it. Yesterday, we solidified movie plans for Wednesday night. I was so ready for some best friend time. I didn't think that she had any idea how much she means to me.

Finn was hitting the stupid fucking bongos that were hanging from his neck as he sang. I hated to admit it, but his beat wasn't half bad.

Joe's support meant a lot to me. He's really religious, or at least he was until he was influenced by the Glee Club. _I'm serious. Glee Club. Bad influence on Teen Jesus._

In any case, he never treated me like a "sinner", and that endeared me to him greatly.

_You'll always have my shoulder when you cry  
I'll never let go  
Never say goodbye_

Mike, Rachel, and Quinn came in, and the combination of their voices made a surprisingly awesome mixture.

I tried not to look at Quinn while she was singing, but it _is_ pretty fucking rude to avoid someone's eyes when they're singing to you. At least I could alternate between her and Mike and Rachel.

Quinn was in her Cheerio uniform, just like me. We were stuck in them every day until Nationals were over. The three of them did a little dancer spin, and Quinn's skirt, of course, floated up. _God damn those skirts._

_Whatever. I can be done with whatever was going on between us and still think she's hot. I'm only human._

_You can count on me like 1 2 3  
I'll be there  
And I know when I need it I can count on you like 4 3 2  
You'll be there  
Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah_

Artie, Blaine, and Rory were the last ones to appear. Except for Mr. Schue, he had snuck in through the other door at some point during the number. The whole club finished the chorus together, and by that point I was spending more time looking up at the ceiling rather than at my friends. It was either do that, or let the tears fall.

"You guys are so fucking corny." I managed to speak, finally. The group bumrushed me for yet another hug, and I half-expected Mr. Schue to chastise me for my language, but he didn't.

_Hug overload the past couple of days._

"But I loved it." I admitted, laughing at how dainty Kurt was trying to be with his part of the hug. "It's okay, Porcelain, I'm not that fragile." And I wasn't.

Yesterday was a bit rough as far as pain went, and I was sure that getting it on with Sadie only aggravated things. Today was okay though. Better than the day before. I needed to heal fast. I didn't want the judges to see any sign of weakness at Nationals that weekend.

"Thank you, but if you guys make me cry, I _will_ go Lima Heights Adjacent on all of your asses." I joked. I wasn't sure if that threat was more or less funny after this past weekend, but the group laughed anyway.

"Okay okay, give Santana some air, kids. We need to get back to work on our set list for Nationals." _Thank you, Mr. Schue._

We started to go to work, but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about how I didn't feel deserving of all of this…love, or whatever it was. I had tortured many of these people over the past couple of years. And while the performance_ was_ corny, it was also incredibly touching that they would do that for me.

Practice was almost over when one of the office secretaries interrupted to gesture for Mr. Schue to come into the hallway. After he went out there, he kept glancing over at me while she spoke to him.

_Oh god, what now? _

I didn't know her very well, but by her body language and facial expression, she seemed like she was on edge. Frantic almost.

I needed to learn to read lips better. The conversation was almost over, and I had nothing.

_"Thank you." _

_Woot, I got that one._ Mr. Schue said "Thank you" to the woman as she walked away. _Helpful._

"I'm letting you all out a few minutes early today. Remember that, and dedicate some of that time to brainstorming outside of class, okay? Santana, come here please."

_Knew it. _

I approached Mr. Schue right away, not even bothering to collect my books from beside my chair before doing so.

I could hear most of the club lollygagging behind me. They were probably shuffling papers around or some stupid shit as an excuse to hang around to see what was going on. _Typical._

Mr. Schue inhaled before solving the mystery for me. "Santana…your parents are here. They're waiting for you in Principal Figgins' office."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter XXII**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I felt my jaw drop, and I shook my head slowly from side to side.

"That's impossible." I contested.

"I'll walk you there." Mr. Schue insisted.

_Didn't he hear what I said? I said that's impossible. As in, my parents are not here, and thus, I do not need to go to the office. _

"C'mon Santana." I still hadn't moved. My feet were concrete blocks full of disbelief.

"They're really here….together?" Mr. Schue nodded, and I could tell he was analyzing my reaction.

I couldn't even remember the last time my parents had been in the same room.

No wonder the office lady was on edge. My parents tended to do that to people.

_Oh my god, what are they doing here? _

Somehow, I willed my legs to move, and I walked side by side with Mr. Schue, dragging my feet to postpone the inevitable until we reached Figgins' office.

Through the glass of Figgins' office I could see a middle aged man in a dark and expensive suit, with a full head of salt and pepper hair, shouting at Figgins.

_Looks my father alright. Dr. Miguel Lopez in the flesh. He does indeed exist. _

There was a shorter, smaller figure next to him. Shoulder length dark brown hair, hands on her hips, rockin' a sharply tailored skirt suit.

_And there was my mother._

They weren't the only people suited up in the vicinity. There were three other suits sitting in the reception/waiting area in front of Figgins' office.

That would be my mother's staff.

She couldn't seem to go anywhere without them. I recognized one of the younger ones, I thought her name was Samantha. _Something like that._ She had been on my mom's team for a while.

You see, my mom was a crisis manager. Also known as a "fixer". Individuals, companies, political campaigns, etc. hired her to protect secrets, improve public images, and you guessed it, resolve crises. She travels the country and the world depending on who hires her. She was the greatest weapon, or the greatest shield that money could buy, depending on what her clients needed. She made bank. She had surpassed my dad's income years ago.

My mom was a badass. _Seriously._ I was definitely proud of her, but I just wished that she was around more_. I missed her._ My mom was one of those people who would steal your heart in minutes, but she would be gone within hours. She was charismatic, smarter than anyone else I had ever met, and she was a hell of a lot of fun.

Now my father, I didn't miss him for who he was, I missed him for what fathers are supposed to be. My father was arrogant, close-minded, and heartless. I didn't care that the man in front of me had very little to do with my life anymore. In fact, I very much preferred it that way.

"I'll have your job for this. How could you let this happen on _your _school grounds, at_ your_ dance?" His bellowing voice penetrated the glass.

He was a scary man, and I could tell that Figgins was intimidated. I felt bad for the little guy.

But more importantly, I did not need my absentee father to come flying in on a white jet and pretend like he cared about my well-being. I didn't want him here.

"I don't understand what else you expect me to do here, Dr. Lopez. Ms. Lopez has already ensured that criminal charges are being brought against the boys, that the boys are suspended pending expulsion, and she's even got the boys' parents to agree to pay for the property damage to the cars." He threw his hands out in exasperation. This argument seemed like it had been going on for awhile.

Mr. Schue and I just stood in the waiting area and watched Principal Figgins' failing attempts to calm down my father. Things weren't going too well for the little man. Mr. Schue gave me quite the sympathetic look.

I would probably never admit it to the guy, but I was grateful that he was still with me, and didn't just leave as soon as he walked me in here.

While my father and Figgins argued, my mother glanced around, and noticed my presence behind her.

"Mija!" She shouted, absolutely beaming, and pushed her way out of the office door.

_Oh god, here comes another hug. _ Okay, this one I didn't mind too much.

"First things first, I have missed you so very much. I swear that you become more beautiful every day that I am away. Careful with those hearts though, okay baby?" She wiggled a finger at me.

I rolled my eyes at her, but damn it if I wasn't smiling anyway. Once when I was little, I asked my Aunt why Winnie the Pooh didn't have pants, and she said it was because my mother charmed them off. If he wasn't an imaginary character, I would still believe it to be true.

"You're even skinnier now. Have you been getting groceries regularly?" I nodded. I had. I wasn't skinnier for the record. I actually weighed more than the last time she was home in March. I had been hitting the training hard for Cheerios, and I was building muscle.

"Yes, mamá, I am well fed. I promise." I assured her.

She touched my facial bandage lightly with her fingertips, the motherly concern etched on her comely features. I hoped to myself that I aged half as well as my mother was aging.

"Did they treat you well at the hospital?"

"They treated me just fine, stop fussing."

"I'm your mother. Fussing is my thing." _No. Working is your thing._ "I don't know if it is any consolation, mija, but those boys will be punished, I'm taking care of it." There was her scary momma bear look. This woman couldn't lift cars, but she could ruin lives.

"Okay." I didn't know what else to say. _Thanks for stopping by? I appreciate you using the skills that keep you away from me for this? _

I briefly glanced over her shoulder to see my father still arguing with Figgins. Mr. Schue had stepped off to the side to give mom and I our time, but he was still there.

_He must be worried about me. _

"We do have one problem." She led me away with a hand on my back to get out of earshot of the office.

That got my attention. She would only tell me there was a problem if there was a problem that she couldn't fix. Otherwise she would just take care of it. She was a fixer after all.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Your father hasn't seen the video. He doesn't know that it exists yet, but it is only a matter of time before he sees it, or before someone tells him." Her tone was grave, and her eyes meant business.

Of course my mom knew about the video. She probably had this whole situation vetted. Her staff probably had six files, one for each guy.

"Okay…I don't understand why that would be a problem." I shrugged, wondering what it was that I was missing.

"Oh my darling…" _That tone._ _This was bad. This was very **very** bad._ "He doesn't know why you were attacked. But, he won't leave it alone. He's been grilling your Principal about it since we got here." There it was. Now I understood why she used that tone, and why there was a problem.

_Oh fuck. Fuck. Those bastards basically outed me to my father. _

As if I needed another reason to hate them.

My mom knew I was gay before I did. She was an incredibly intuitive person, plus, she had quite a few fabulously gay friends.

She literally sat me down on my bed after I had a date with Puck my sophomore year, and she said to me, _"Baby girl, I have been waiting years for you to be ready to tell me that you would rather be Brad Pitt than Angelina Jolie when the two of them are making the beast with two backs. And I want to respect this process that you're going through of discovering who you are, I do, but please don't waste too much time on __**fighting**__ who you are. There is so much that you're missing. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to find the girl who is going to compliment that happiness." _

Besides her nasty terminology, and the hypocrisy of telling me not to waste precious time when she was wasting hers in a loveless marriage, it was what I needed to hear. I had always known that my mom was open-minded but it was still scary. I figured if she was _that_ open-minded she wouldn't have married my homophobic father.

Additionally, it was kinda cool that she always told me that I didn't need anyone else to make me happy.

It wasn't long after that conversation that I started allowing myself to get physical with girls.

"He'll kill me." I breathed. And here I thought that my life couldn't get any more dramatic than it already was.

"I won't let him hurt you." She promised, forcing me to look her in the eyes. With her heels on, she was almost my height. _Tiny, powerful lady._

She turned to the other suits. "I'm taking the week off. Cancel all of my consultations. Sarah, you'll take the lead on the Sato case. Book the next flights out and I'll meet you in Tokyo on Tuesday." _Sarah. So that's her name. _Despite my feelings concerning my mom's constant traveling, I did enjoy seeing her in boss mode. My mom was the epitome of a HBIC.

She was twisting back to me to speak when my father came charging out of the office, with Figgins reluctantly on his heels.

He took one look at my face, before his own face twisted into a disgusted grimace. And no, that disgust was not for the assholes who did this to me.

"You_ let_ them hit you? How could you be so lazy with your training? I have provided you with all of the necessary equipment." He fumed. No hug. No hello. Just criticism.

_That's my father for you. _

"Really Miguel? That is the first thing you are going to say to your daughter after how many months of not seeing her?" My mom's hands were back on her hips. One kettle may be darker than the pot here, but they were both still black.

"She was amazing, and you're an old fool not to see that. We are both lucky to still have our daughter." She chastised him, and my eyes flickered between the two faces of my parents.

"She did kick _a lot_ of booty." Figgins added from behind my dad.

Needless to say, my dad was not happy that my Principal decided to enter the conversation, and after silencing the smaller man with one look, he turned back to me.

"What did you do to make them so mad? Why did they come after you, Santana? Were they racists?" He grilled. It was like he thought this whole thing was my fault somehow.

_What did __**I**__ do? Really? _

"Miguel, _don't_." My mother warned in her low and threatening tone.

"No, it's okay, mamá. Like you said, he's going to figure it out." She took my hand. I wasn't sure if it was to comfort me or to give me strength. I needed both.

I took a few deep breaths, not allowing my dad's impatient look to deter me from gathering myself before I said what I needed to say.

"I'm gay, dad. They attacked me because I'm a lesbian." My voice sounded far stronger than how I felt.

He was quiet at first. That's always the scariest part. His hand twitched by his side, and his eyes began to darken from brown to black, much like mine did when I was furious.

He glared over at Figgins. "What kind of lessons are your faggy teachers giving here, huh? You think you can just get away with convincing _my_ daughter that she's a lesbian?"

"Mr. Lopez, that is…" Mr. Schue stepped away from the wall, and he looked livid. In fact, he was in rare form. I wasn't sure if I had ever seen him like this.

"That's Dr. to you, Tinkerbell. I bet you're the Queer 101 teacher, aren't you, fruitcake?" He stepped forward to Mr. Schue, and I immediately stepped in between the two men.

_No. This. This my father could not do. _

"He's the director for Glee Club, and he is more of a father to me than you have_ ever_ been." _Wow, that's so true._ I didn't even realize it until I said it.

"Get your things, Santana. Now. We're leaving. I'm going to get you some help. We'll get you fixed. We'll send you to one of those church camps that deal with these issues." He ordered, his dark eyes burning into me.

_Oh no, he didn't._

I felt my mother puff up beside me. _Here it comes. _

"You're not taking her anywhere. This is not something that needs to be fixed. And those camps? Those camps are a ridiculous joke. You don't want your daughter to be a lesbian, so you'll ship her off to a sleepaway camp with a bunch of other _lesbians? _Besides the basic immorality of trying to brainwash the gay away, it's also completely counter-intuitive. They might as well call it "camp orgy", because that's what you're asking for when you throw a bunch of sexually repressed teenagers together in an attempt to "cure" them." My mother stepped in front of me. She was fierce.

_This is why I love my mother. _

He didn't address my mother's brilliant arguments, instead he looked past my mother to continue to lock his eyes on me.

"I want you out of my house. I am disowning you, I am disinheriting you, and you will get nothing from me, and you will be nothing to me." His tone was downright frightening. He meant every word. He emphasized each one, never tearing his eyes away from mine. He wanted me to suffer.

I didn't want it to hurt. I didn't want this man to have any power over my emotions. But it did hurt. It hurt more than I could ever describe.

"No. No more. Go back to Arizona, Miguel. You're done here. _I _pay those bills, and that house is in _my_ name. If you want to fight me for it, file for divorce. That's my arena you'll be fighting in, and I guarantee that it is _you_ who will be left with _nothing_." My mother challenged.

I tore out of the reception area before I could hear my father's response. I was on the verge of tears, I was going to lose it, and he was the absolute last person that I would allow to see me like that.

I just needed to get my books, and go home, and then I could let go. Well, not home. I didn't know where to go to be honest. I didn't know whether they had come straight from the airport or if my father was going to have to return home to get his things. I didn't want to take the chance of being anywhere near him.

This, whatever it was, had been building inside of me since those assholes cornered me at Prom. Everything had just been culminating to this moment.

_This was the break. _

But unexpectedly, _she_ was waiting for me. She was sitting there in the Choir Room, and my books were in a neat pile, that I did not create, on the chair beside her.

She wasn't on her phone. She wasn't reading. She wasn't watching anything on her iPad. Quinn Fabray was just waiting. _Waiting for me._

As soon as she realized I was there, she stood, biting her lower lip in that incredibly sexy way that she does, but her eyes were drowning in concern.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Mondays are the worst. Who doesn't hate Mondays? But this one was especially crappy.

I spent Sunday processing Saturday. And crying. There was definitely some of that as well.

I hated Santana for having sex with Sadie, I did. Logical or not, I was pissed. I was hurt. I felt sick the whole day, and not just because of the awful hangover.

I gave Sam an apology call late Sunday afternoon. I treated him horribly that morning, not to mention how I had used him before that. We met up that night, and I explained that we weren't going anywhere. I gave the "I hope we can still be friends" talk, and he was such a sweetheart that he agreed immediately.

I didn't know what to say to Santana yet, but I knew that I didn't want Sam or anyone else. _I wanted Santana._

I needed to have that conversation with her. I needed to explain what I did with Sam. I needed her to explain Sadie. And most of all, I needed to know how she felt about me.

It would be easy to assume that I was just another hookup. Especially after she banged Sadie in the very same night that we kissed.

_But that kiss. That fucking kiss. _

It was different. I wished that I could write it off, and say that it was only different because she was a girl and I had never been so intimate with a girl, but that would be bullshit and I knew that.

Yes, I had freaked out about all of the possibilities and consequences of those possibilities, but I was sober now. Sober me, knew that Santana and I were two of the smartest people in the entire school, and we could figure out all of that shit together if we wanted to.

Furthermore, it was haunting me. Absolutely haunting me that Santana hadn't slept with Sadie until Saturday night. I had said it before, but it was obvious from the first time that I saw Sadie with Santana at work months ago that Sadie wanted it and Sadie wanted it bad. And yet, Santana didn't give it up until that night.

What's the new factor? Was it the whole romance of Prom? Doubtful. _I _was that factor, at least possibly.

It was enough to give me hope. The thought that Santana slept with Sadie because she saw me kissing Sam didn't exactly give me warm fuzzies, but it did mean that she cared.

Sure, there were some scenarios where her asking to talk about things did not mean that she had any feelings involved, i.e. bringing up a discussion because she wanted me to know that there were no feelings on her part.

But, those scenarios did not fit into the experience that I had with her Saturday night. When she asked to talk, she was nervous, and a nervous Santana Lopez is a very rare sight to see. She was vulnerable, and she allowed me to see that vulnerability.

Basically, she trusted me enough to expose herself, and in her eyes, she probably felt like I shit all over that.

By Monday morning, I was still angry and upset, and I didn't know what to say to her yet. But, I knew I had to figure something out.

If I was right about my theory, then it wasn't going to be easy to get Santana to talk about us. I may have lost the opportunity all together, but I had to try.

Today was not going to be that day, however, because I wasn't ready.

I must say, it was really difficult for me to clear my head and work through my own emotions when Santana was all anyone wanted to talk about.

From the Cheerio locker room, to every single one of my classes it was all Santana all the time. Anyone who hadn't watched the video yet, sure did by the end of the day.

Some idiots legitimately believed that Santana was some sort of secret government agent.

People fawned over her, and those who didn't fawn, admired from a distance. Santana has always been one of those "center of attention" people, and the buzz around her only heightened that quality.

Even when we were in separate class rooms, I couldn't escape her. Our peers expected me to know everything about Santana, and I was often the target for questions. Many of which, I did not know the answers to, but even when I did, I didn't feel as though it was my place to offer such information.

Unlike the other Santana parts of my day, Kurt's suggestion that we sing Count On Me by Bruno Mars to Santana _was _really sweet. Everyone was onboard with the idea instantly. We needed her to know that we were all there for her. As annoying as it was for me to have my world temporarily set to channel Santana when I was trying to work through my own Santana stuff, it had to be far_ far_ harder on her.

People seemed to ignore or forget the fact that this was a horrible attack that was motivated by Santana's sexual orientation. Santana was a badass, we can all agree, but what happened to her would shake anyone to their core. Worse yet, Santana was not exactly the sort of person who would reach out for help or support when she needed it.

I wasn't the only one who moved extra slowly to gather my things when Mr. Schue called Santana to the front, but I was probably listening the hardest.

_Poor girl. _

I mean, what else could possibly happen to her at that point?

I dropped the textbook that was in my hands when Mr. Schue told Santana that her parents were here. _Together. _

I basically had lived at that house when I was little and I couldn't fill two hands with the number of times I saw both of her parents together. When they _were _together, it was almost always volatile.

If you were to bundle together all of Santana's negative qualities and then multiplied that bundle by about 100, you would have Santana's father. Well, he also possessed some extra unfortunate qualities that she did not, and those would have to be factored in as well for you to understand what an asshole this guy is.

Santana could be cruel, and her father was unbearably so. She could be judgmental, and her father was the king of judgment. Santana could be arrogant, and her father believed himself to be god's gift to the world.

I never understood how someone like Mrs. Lopez could have married such a man. The only thing that those two seemed to have in common was a drive to succeed.

His visits always ended in a fight. Mrs. Lopez made sure to send Santana and me out of the house when the two of them would start to argue, but she couldn't save us from hearing some of it. The things that man would say to his wife…he was a monster. That's the best way for me to explain it

No matter what Santana and I had going on between us, I couldn't let her face the aftermath of her parents' visit alone. So, I waited by the books that she had left. If she didn't actually come for them, I would bring them to her the next day. One of the books was her Trig book though, and we had an exam in that class tomorrow. I was sure that she was going to want it, well, maybe not with everything else that was happening.

The look on her face when she eventually stormed in was one I had never seen before. In the dozen years that I had known her, I had never _ever_ seen her like this.

I hesitated only a moment before I crossed the room to embrace her, and it was almost as if I could feel the internal war she was fighting when I did so. Maybe it was because she was physically expressing that internal war.

First, she would cling tightly to me. Then she would push me away. Next, she would pull me into her again.

She repeated the cycle many times, until she finally crumpled down to the floor with tears streaming down her face. The tears only highlighted her beauty. I shouldn't have expected anything less.

I hadn't seen Santana cry since middle school. I wasn't sure she was capable of it anymore, to be honest, but here she was shaking in front of me.

I kneeled down with her, and hugged her head into my chest.

Some random kid that I didn't recognize tried to walk into the choir room.

"Turn around!" I snapped at him, allowing a flash of HBIC Quinn to shine through, and he did as he was told without question.

What does someone say? What do you do when the strongest person that you know loses it?

I could only hold her. I had no words for this. Even if I had known exactly what had happened, I couldn't imagine that there would be words that could assuage this pain.

"He knows." She cried softly into my chest.

Part of me was in complete disbelief that Santana would divulge any information as to why she was in her current state. The other part of me couldn't comprehend what she meant.

_Her dad knows about the attack?_

Well, I had figured that the attack had something to do with why both of her parents were there so that made sense, but I didn't know why his knowledge of the attack would cause her to react like this.

_Oh shit. _

If he knew about the attack, then he probably discovered the motivation behind the attack.

_He knows she's a lesbian. _

I wrapped my arms around her tighter, if that was even possible. Dr. Lopez was a very religious man, and a very close-minded religious man at that. He had no qualms about sharing his bigoted opinions with whoever would listen.

I couldn't even begin to imagine what he must have said to her when he found out.

After Santana's crying had calmed slightly, I went to one of the cupboards in the room and grabbed a large tote bag to place all of our books into it. Swinging it over my shoulder, I gathered Santana from the floor, offering her support with my arm around her waist.

I walked her out to my car, throwing the bag in the back. She was completely silent, and didn't argue when I told her to get in.

I held her hand the entire drive to my house, she squeezed my hand multiple times on the ride home, but she didn't break the silence until we pulled into the driveway.

"Your parents hate me." She mumbled.

That wasn't _completely _accurate. My mom liked to say that my dad wasn't "fond" of Santana, and my mom didn't really have her own opinions, which meant that they both weren't "fond" of Santana.

"They're not here. Come on." I took her inside and straight up to my bedroom, helping her under the covers after I dropped the bag to the floor.

I crawled in behind her, bringing my body flush with her back, wrapping my arm around her stomach.

I may have had no idea how to begin to put her back together, but god damn me if I wasn't going to hold her as she fell apart.

Her body was so warm against mine, and my face was practically in her fruity scented ponytail. Maybe all of her products were made of some kind of tropical fruit.

I gently removed her hairtie from her hair, running my fingers through her silky locks like I used to do when we were kids.

I wasn't a violent person, but I very much wanted to kill her father in that moment.

For him to destroy such a beautiful creature, and I didn't just mean physically beautiful, it made me want to erase him permanently from the world.

I was surprised when she rolled over, because I had thought that she was asleep or had been pretty close to falling asleep.

Her eyes were still glistening, but no new tears were falling. She took my breath away.

Her gaze scanned the entirety of my face, bringing her hand from beneath the covers to cup my cheek. My eyes closed at the simple contact.

I felt her warm breath ghost over my lips before her lips made contact with mine.

My heart soared. I don't know how else to explain my reaction to kissing her again. I had feared that I had lost her completely. Although, I did recognize that this wasn't exactly an appropriate time to celebrate.

I put myself into that kiss. The whole of myself, and my feelings for her. It wasn't the right time for verbal confessions, but I could show her.

It was tender, and exploratory. The kiss did not build to something else, it was more like one long, sweet, perfectly pitched note.

When it ended, I wasn't ready to stop. I wanted to spend the whole night kissing her, but I certainly wasn't going to push for more given her current state.

When she rolled back over, I lightly hit the pillow with the side of my head.

_I'm falling for Santana Lopez. _

Wordlessly, I cuddled into her once again, reveling in her warmth and her scent.

* * *

It was dark by the time I woke. I was the only occupant of my bed, although the tropical fruit scent still lingered on the sheets and her pillow. I sighed heavily.

_She was gone._

Her books were missing from the tote bag, and besides her hairtie that I had put around my own wrist, there was no sign that she had ever been there.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter XXIII**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Santana didn't show up to school or Cheerio practice on Tuesday. As for the latter, Coach Sue was obviously unhappy, and she took her aggravation concerning her Captain missing practice the week of Nationals out on the rest of us. She put me in charge of warm-ups, and while it felt great to be in charge again, it didn't make me feel any better about Santana's absence.

Everyone kept asking me where she was, and there were a few rumors about Santana's parents' visit that were floating around. I was really getting irritated with everyone expecting me to know everything about my closed-off friend. It was a constant painful reminder of how little I knew about what was going on, and how little I knew about her in general.

On the bright side, thanks to yesterday's events, I had released some of my anger concerning the Sadie sexapade. My frustration, however, had only increased. I didn't know what my place was in this whole situation, and I didn't know what my place was in her life.

I waited until Glee practice to send her my first text of the day. If she needed space I wanted to give it to her, but I also couldn't bring myself to wait any longer to reach out to her.

**Glee is borderline unbearable without you here. We need that mouth of yours to keep Berry in check. **

_Casual enough, right?_ While still letting her know that she's missed. _Gosh_, I knew I was probably overthinking it, but I never knew how Santana was going to react.

Additionally, I _was_ being honest. Rachel's behavior was almost intolerable today. It seemed like there might be trouble in paradise between her and Finn and it was making her especially irritating.

I was really worried about Santana. I couldn't focus on anything else. She missed our Trig exam, although I was sure that our teacher would let her make it up given the circumstances.

Still, I hoped she wasn't stuck somewhere with her father. I hated that I once again had absolutely no clue what was happening with her.

After dinner with my parents, I sent her another text before I started on the dishes.

**Will you just let me know if you're okay? I'm definitely here if you need to talk, but if you won't talk about it, please at least give me ****_some_**** sign that you're all right. **

_That didn't sound too desperate did it?_ I wasn't sure that I cared anymore.

An hour later, after I had finished the dishes and my homework, without any response from Santana, I made a decision. I had to go see her.

Within minutes of coming to that decision, thanks to the proximity of our houses, I was knocking on her front door.

_I hope her dad doesn't answer. _

Her father terrified me, but not enough to keep me away.

There was no answer, so I tried again. Her car was in the driveway, which meant that she had retrieved it from school at some point last night or today.

My eyes were fixed on her car when the door finally opened.

"Oh my goodness!" I was enveloped in a hug before I even had time to fully twist my head back around.

She was such a good hugger. _Always had been._

"Hi, Mrs. Lopez." I greeted her, smiling when she finally released me.

"It's Maribel to you, sweetheart. Always." She took a step back, clearly appraising me.

"Dios mio, Quinn. I can't believe what a woman you have grown into." She shook her head in disbelief. I was blushing in seconds.

_God damn you Lopez women. Forever making me blush. _

I hadn't stood this close to her since all of those days that I came knocking when I was in eighth grade. Since then, the only time I saw her was when I was passing by in my car, and then, of course, I only caught rare glimpses.

Both of Santana's parents were very attractive people, which explains why Santana is so beautiful. Her mom though, she had the personality to back up her looks, unlike her father.

"Is Santana home?" I felt like a 13-year-old girl again, asking if my friend could come out to play.

Maribel nodded, giving me a sad smile. "Yes, she is, but she doesn't want to see you, honey."

"Like…me specifically, or anyone?" I choked out. _Not again. Please not again. _

"What do you think?" There was no malice in her tone when she posed the question.

I sighed. I was trying to prevent my frustration from building into panic. This was just all too familiar.

I wondered what Maribel was thinking. The last time we saw each other it was in this very place, with her delivering a very similar message.

"Did she say why?" A girl could ask.

"That would be too easy wouldn't it? It's fortunate that she speaks with me at all. I'm not exactly in the running for any Mother of the Year awards, but I do have to respect what she wants." She may have been trying to make light of the situation, but the pain was quite clear in her dark eyes.

"Congratulations on Captain, by the way." She made a zipping motion across her lips. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I will be coming with you girls to Nationals! It's long past time for me to see my baby in action." _Damn right it is. _

In that moment, she looked like the picture perfect proud momma. You would never know that she went months without seeing her daughter.

"Thank you, Mrs. Lo…Maribel." I responded politely. _Santana talked about me to her mom, and she said more than "if Quinn happens to come over, tell her that I don't want to see her"? _

"Yes, that means what you think it means. She talks about you, and we don't get to talk that often. You must be important to her." It was like she had peered right into my soul.

"Why would you think…" I began.

"It's my job to read people, and you, my dear, are not being very subtle. But I will tell you, that although my daughter puts so much energy into being a difficult read, I can still see how much she cares for you."

_Subtle about what?_ _Your family makes no sense! _

_Bunch of vague, unreasonably attractive people. _

"Yeah, I'm sure that's why she doesn't want to see me." I responded sarcastically.

"_Of course_ it is. You've always been a smart girl, Quinn, and you know that Santana has always pushed people away who get too close to her heart. Who do you think she has pushed the hardest?"

I swallowed, not fully absorbing the implications of the woman's words.

"Is she doing okay?" I was grateful that her mom was there for Santana. I was confident that at least while Mrs. Lopez was around, Santana would have _someone _taking care of her.

"She'll get there. Especially with people like you around her, Quinn."

I wanted to ask her what exactly she was playing at. Was she trying to tell me not to give up on her daughter? Was she warning me that Santana is complicated and difficult? Believe me, I was well aware.

"Will you tell her that I stopped by?"

"Oh, I'm sure she knows, but yes I will. It was wonderful to see you." She gave me another hug before I turned to make my way down the walkway.

"You too." I responded genuinely, my back already to her.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

"Santana Gabriella Lopez!" My mom shouted from the foyer, and I knew straightaway that she meant business.

Reluctantly, I abandoned my bed to make my descent. I found my mother in the kitchen, attempting to put together some sort of sandwich. She was never brilliant in the kitchen, but she looked especially out of practice.

"To start, you haven't eaten anything all day, mija."

"I haven't been hungry." It was true. I didn't remember the last time that I had an appetite.

"That makes no matter to me. You're going to eat." She was using her no nonsense tone.

_Better to just not argue. _I could feel the Lopez storm brewing though. This wasn't going to just be about food.

"Fine."

She pushed the lopsided sandwich on a plate toward me. I glanced down at it in disgust.

"Get over it. Just eat it." She ordered, slapping her palms, not so gently, down onto the counter top.

"Geez, mamá, what crawled up your butt all of the sudden?" I asked, taking my first bite.

"Oh I don't know, mija, do think it could have something to do with me having to turn away your little blonde friend again?"

If you were to speak with my mother on the phone when she was in total business mode, you would have no idea that she was a tiny Hispanic woman. Her accent only came out when she was excited, or angry. _Like now. _

I shot her a look that said, "don't go there", but she did anyway.

"I love you more than anything in this world, baby, and I want to support you, but I did not raise a fool. I won't watch you do to that girl what you did years ago."

"You don't know what you're talking about." _Another bite._ Maybe once I finished the sad excuse for a sandwich she would let me go back to my room.

"I don't? I'm the one who has had to look her in the eyes while you hide in your bedroom. It's not right." Her accent was getting thicker by the minute.

"Drop it, mom. You've been here for a day. That does not make you an expert when it comes to _my_ life." I snapped. I didn't want to talk about Quinn. Not with her.

I didn't even want to think about Quinn. The thought of her made my stomach ache.

"You're better than this, Santana. I may not be around much, but I still know that you have changed. You have grown beyond these games that you're playing." _There goes the hand gestures. _

"They aren't games." I asserted. I didn't know what they were, but I wasn't playing around.

My mother usually didn't push me this hard. She knew better.

"You can choose something other than pain or nothingness. There is so much else out there, even if that's all you think you know, mija."

"And where do you think I learned that from?" My eyes were changing. I could feel them.

"I'm not saying that you'll never get hurt, but this, what you're doing here, it will do far more damage." She pointed forcefully down to the counter.

I ignored her, and continued to eat the sandwich, hoping that she would eventually just stop on her own.

"You had the _courage_ to stand proud in front of your father, baby. You had the _courage_ to fight off six men who tried to hurt you. You had the _courage _to come out in this conservative small town. All of that courage, all of that fight, what is it for if you won't let anyone love you?" She gestured to the door as if I didn't already know who she was talking about.

"She's just a friend." I lied. It was a familiar lie, one that was on constant repeat in my head.

My mother snorted. "And I am Lady Gaga." That made me crack a smile. Mom always tried to be the cool mom, although some of her coolness _was_ rather effortless.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

"Mornin' Q." I continued to tie my shoe, glancing over my shoulder at the familiar voice.

_Santana. _

I dropped my hands from my shoe, spinning around on the bench, to place both feet onto the surface, before pulling my knees into my chest. She was walking down the aisle of lockers toward me, smiling, with a coffee in each hand.

She wasn't ignoring me. _Oh thank god._

"You look like you've seen a ghost. Well, never mind. You look like how a normal person would look if they saw a ghost. I know that freaky shit excites you." She smiled at me and my heart skipped in my chest. She was right though. Pan's Labyrinth may have freaked me out, but I did have a strange fascination for graveyards, ghosts, and vampires. I always had.

"Forgive me, it's not yet five a.m. and Santana Lopez is smiling. It's terrifying." I returned her smile, and debated whether or not I should hug her. _Why did I always feel the constant need to be touching her? _

"Hardy har har." Santana mocked my attempt at a joke, her eyes rolling toward her eyebrows while she handed me one of the coffees.

I narrowed my own eyebrows in confusion as I took a sip. _Raspberry white chocolate mocha, my favorite._

I was never going to figure this girl out, but hell if I wasn't going to try.

She sat by my feet as the other Cheerios started to enter the locker room.

"I appreciate what you did for me on Monday…taking care of me and what not. You're a really good friend, Q." Her normally confident voice was soft and quiet.

Old Santana probably wouldn't have even acknowledged that Monday happened; she would have never chosen to speak of such a display of vulnerability. I was in awe.

Until she proceeded to call me "a really good friend." Because when that sunk in, it felt like someone socked me in the stomach. _Hard._

"I'm glad you're back." It was all I could manage with the new weight that was pushing down on my chest.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

We were finally on our way to Nationals. My girls were buzzing with nervous competitive energy, and we occupied the majority of the seats on the plane. My mother was in one of those seats, believe it or not. She was near the front with the other parental chaperones, and I could hear her laugh from back here.

It was strange having her around. In a good way though. My mother hadn't been to an event of mine in at least three maybe even four years, and now she was flying with us to our biggest competition of the year. It meant the world to me.

She had been so excited to see Brittany on Wednesday that she practically watched the movie with us. I say practically, because my mom could never sit still through a whole movie. She kept leaving the room to do something in the office, or she would leave to attempt to make something for us in the kitchen.

It had been really nice to spend time with Brit. We were moving in a positive direction, and I couldn't be happier about it.

"I hope my mom remembers to feed Lord Tubbington, otherwise he'll start eating the children." She was kneeling on the seat in front of me, facing me while she bounced slightly with excitement.

"That's real disturbing, Brit." I answered her without a blink. I should be used to that by now.

There was a flash of another blonde ponytail by the plane entrance, and I waved Quinn over immediately. She looked surprised, but approached anyway.

"Are you going to sit down or what?" I asked, gesturing with my eyes to the seat next to me. She responded by shoving her carry on into the bin above our heads.

I had multiple motives for asking Quinn to sit with me. For one, I needed her brain. I wanted to go over some last minute changes to the routine, and Quinn was the perfect person to bounce ideas off of.

Secondly, I knew that flying still made her kinda nervous, and I didn't want her to be stuck by a girl who was equally nervous come takeoff.

Thirdly, it was an excuse to spend a couple hours with her, without things getting too serious. I knew she wouldn't try to get too deep with all of the other Cheerios around.

I had tried my best to be friendly the last couple of days. I wanted her to know that I wasn't going anywhere. Yes, I had a temporary freak out episode after things went down with my father, but as my mom said, I didn't need to resort to my old defense mechanisms anymore.

I didn't ever want anyone to see me break down like Quinn did. The fact that it was Quinn who was there made it that much worse. I had already felt like I had exposed too much of myself to her on Saturday, and I had been planning to distance myself, at least somewhat from the blonde.

My plan was not to fall apart in her arms. My plan was not to act like a completely nutso person by pushing her away and pulling her to me over and over again. My plan was not to allow her to take me to her place and fall asleep in her arms. And my plan had certainly not been to kiss her again.

I didn't ever let people take care of me. I didn't allow myself to get to the point where I needed other people to take care of me. But that is what she did. She held me no matter how many times I tried to pull away.

While I was lying in her bed, I had thought that once I was empty of tears, I would feel empty, but I didn't.

I felt safe.

After everything we had been through, she was still there. She was there for me like no one had ever been there for me before.

When we kissed, it felt like I needed her. She gave me something that I had been missing. Now, it was like a giant neon arrow was pointing at this void that I never knew had existed until that moment.

When I woke up in her arms, feeling so incredibly content, I panicked.

It was similar to that feeling when you screw someone that you knew you weren't supposed to screw because they're batshit crazy, and when you wake up the next morning you have to get out of there as soon as possible.

It was like that. Only the feeling was far worse. The paint job of my car wasn't at stake here. I wasn't worried about someone keying threats into the side of my ride. This was me. I was at stake.

So yeah, I hid like a 13-year-old girl again. I'm not proud of that, but I was not happy that my mom called me out on it. _Not happy at all._

As far as my relationship with Quinn went, my mom needed to mind her own damn business.

But, some of what she said did hit home. My actions, my choices, they didn't just affect me.

I was often haunted by the image of Quinn in the storage room while she detailed how I abandoned her. I had hurt her deeply. I couldn't do that to her again. I couldn't be responsible for that pain.

I was determined to be a good friend to her. We didn't have to be best friends, but I wasn't going to allow my feelings for her to fuck her over again. I just had to figure out a way to work through my own bullshit without it impacting her.

I was doing well for the first half of the flight, until she caught me staring. _ How could I not? _

She was sketching an alternative formation in case my wrist wouldn't support some of the more advanced gymnastic maneuvers. We needed four girls to do the same flip at the same time, but only four of us on the squad were capable of doing it. As the possible odd girl out, we needed a possible new game plan.

But why did she have to bite down on her lip like that while she did it? I could always tell when she contemplating the pros and cons of various options by the way her eyebrows would scrunch, and her teeth would gradually lose its hold on her lip, until she would capture it again moments later.

This would be easier if I didn't know those lips so intimately. _Six times._ Under the porch, in the foam pit, in my bedroom, twice more _on_ the porch (_and yes, I count those separately, because they were so different_), and one in Quinn's bed. _Six amazing encounters with those lips_.

When I finally tore my gaze away from those lips, I realized that there was a pair of impish hazel eyes on mine. Despite my embarrassment at getting caught, my attention flickered down again as Quinn proceeded to roll the tip of her pen back and forth across her perfectly pink lower lip. An aching warmth began to spread from just below my rib cage.

_Oh she knew what she was doing. _

"You're good, Fabray." I raised one eyebrow in her direction, before reclining back into my seat. I inserted my ear buds, deciding that I needed to zone out to some music rather than focusing on the temptress that was Quinn Fabray.

Her bare arm brushed mine as she turned back to make a note on the diagram.

_Simplest touch. Instant chills. How does that happen? _

Forcing my eyes closed, I could practically feel her satisfied smile next to me.

* * *

As soon as a Cheer Nationals crew member announced that we were next to perform, I was flushed instantly with that full body competitive tingle. I was able to spring more off of my wrist than I had expected during our run through, but I still wasn't in full form. We had to make some minor adjustments, but thanks to Quinn, I didn't think it was going to impact our score.

She was always better with that sort of thing than I was. I was a domineering and adventurous leader, but she was the perfect mixture of creativity and organization. The Cheerios were only going to improve with her back at the helm next year.

It was difficult to stand still.

_Time to get hyped up. _

"MY CHAMPION CHEERIOS, LET ME HEAR…" I spun around cupping my mouth with my hands, expecting to find my full squad behind me, itching to answer my call while shaking out their nervously excited limbs, or rubbing their hands frantically together to relieve some of the building tension.

My full squad _was_ behind me, but no one was bouncing or actively rolling back and forth onto their toes like years past.

I lost my breath, and I felt that now growingly familiar swell of emotion rise inside of me.

On each and every one of my Cheerio's right cheeks, was a thin white strip; a bandage that matched mine.

I berated these girls. I've made many of them cry from exertion and at times seething insults, although I was doing the latter less frequently. I didn't understand, but I was overwhelmed. _Absolutely overwhelmed._ They amazed me.

_Words. I need to find my words. _

"We're proud to have you as our Captain, and we couldn't find a better way to show that than on the Nationals' Stage." Dakota spoke and the girls around her nodded. She was going make a great replacement one day.

Quinn brought me back to the ground by mouthing the words of the start-up cheer in my direction, with her lips curled into a smile. She was reminding me that we were moments away from dominating that arena once again, and that I needed to get us ready.

It was tradition.

_Thanks, Quinn._

"All right, take two!" I yelled, finding that my self-assured Captain voice was back. With these girls behind me, I was stronger than ever.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Santana, Brittany and I were the only freshmen girls to make it on the Varsity Cheerios. We had been back at school for three days now since our third trip together to Nationals. We were champions yet again, and we had scored higher than ever before.

That environment was such a high for all of us. Especially after this year, we were a tight knit group and we were constantly feeding off of each other's energy.

Many of the other girls always looked forward to going back to school to tote around our obscenely large trophy, and to receive the attention from our peers that was waiting for us. Being a Cheerio was a straight ticket to popularity, but we were further elevated after Nationals each year.

I enjoyed the attention that always came with our return, but I would choose to go back to the Nationals environment in a heartbeat. I knew why Santana loved it. She was a competitor. Born and bred to dominate any and all opponents.

My love for it, wasn't necessarily a competitive spirit so much as it was a feeling of belonging. What better place for National Champions to fit in than at Nationals? Not only were we the team to beat, but we were also the team to get to know. Some of the most popular girls from all over the country wanted to be us.

If I didn't practice with Santana 5+ days a week, and thus know what she was capable of, I would have never known that she had an injury. She was flawless in the maneuvers that we chose for her. That stage was such a high, and to be floating at such heights, with that brunette sticking her landing next to me, shooting a smile in my direction when she did was so…gosh, how to even begin to explain it. It was a high with butterflies included.

I could tell how moved she was by the white strips. I was incredibly moved by it and it wasn't even a gesture that was directed toward me. She didn't notice that our cheering section of the audience was full of white strips as well until after we were done performing.

_Oh god, that face. I just can't. _

Her plump lips parted as her jaw went slack, her eyes wide, captivated by emotion. The smile that followed was one without restraint. It was a moment of true realization for her. She had potent, physical proof that people cared about her, that people supported her. That scene was one that she would never be able to deny or dismiss with excuses.

I would never be able to recreate that moment when she discovered her support in the audience, her mother included. _A sea of specks of white._ It was powerful.

Although that moment could never be reproduced, I would do anything to see that face of hers again.

The plane rides there and back were sweet torture. Every time she had to crawl over me to speak with someone or to go to the restroom, I had to stifle a whimper.

And of course each and every time she would rise to slide over me she would ask, in her effortlessly flirtatious way, if I'd rather have her front or her back facing me.

_As if I would ever want to choose. Both. I want both. _

I found her eyes fixed on me more than once during the trip, and I was so very close several times to just asking her what she was thinking. Part of me didn't want to say anything at all.

Her gaze made me feel wanted, and I didn't want to spoil that with her explanations, whatever they may be.

Alternatively, if that _was_ desire in her eyes, I _oh so desperately_ wanted to know where her mind was taking her. Because, let's be honest, I wanted to come, too.

We rolled right off of the Cheerio Nationals high and into Glee Nationals preparation. While the Cheerios uniforms seem like they were designed to fit on Santana's body, it was still great to see her in street clothes again. Well, her high fashion version of street clothes. I was excited to shop with her in New York City. If she would have me.

Maybe we could actually go on an adventure alone, and I would get a proper chance to speak with her. During our Cheerios National trip we always had a group of people around us, and when we _were_ able to break off, Brittany was always right there with us. Something had happened between them, I could tell. I don't mean something sexual. Brittany just seemed happier, and she seemed far more comfortable with Santana than she had been even a week ago.

Otherwise, ever since that scare at her front door, I was grateful to just have her around.

"No! No Barbra! I thought we agreed that this was going to be more than the Rachel Berry show this year." Mercedes argued, slapping her notebook down on her thigh.

"I'm not going to apologize. This is our chance, and we aren't going to win with a Beyonce set." Rachel stood her ground.

"No one suggested Beyonce." Mercedes sighed in frustration.

"I figured it was coming sooner or later. You're basically a One Note Wonder." Rachel snapped.

My jaw dropped. Rachel had some social intelligence issues definitely, but she wasn't usually mean.

Mercedes' chair flew back. "Now I know you did _not_ just…"

Santana was sitting with her arms crossed under her chest, and her legs crossed at the thigh. She uncrossed her legs, nonchalantly pointing one tightly jeaned leg off to her side, blocking Mercedes' path to Rachel.

"It's not worth it, Wheezy." Santana advised, and Mercedes briefly stepped forward into the leg barrier before she decided to sit back down instead.

"Berry, we get it. You and Chubby-Wan Kenobi are having some issues, but sit down before you get hurt. Blaine you're up to bat. We need someone stable running this discussion." Santana grasped the reigns, taking control of the room effortlessly.

_She can take control of me any day. _

A slightly hesitant Blaine replaced Rachel in the center of the choir room. Mr. Schue was finalizing travel arrangements somewhere with Principal Figgins and he had left us to our own dysfunctional devices.

The session was far more productive from there.

_Good call, Santana. _

People were actually making suggestions that weren't just centered around their own voices.

"Quinn, anything?" Blaine's eyes trained on me. I was one of the only ones who hadn't suggested anything yet.

There was one song that had been on my mind a lot lately, but I feared that it was too personal.

Do you ever have a song where it makes you feel exposed just to have that song come on when other people are around?

"Cold Shoulder by Adele." I took the leap.

Kurt and Mercedes smiled and nodded their heads in each other's directions immediately. Blaine looked a tad lost.

"Let's hear it." He gestured me to the front.

_Oh hell no._ I was not singing that song. That was not in my wheelhouse. I loved Adele, but I couldn't sing her songs. She was far better suited to the voices of Santana or Mercedes.

Instead, I plugged my phone into the speaker port that was resting on the piano.

_You say it's all in my head_  
_And the things I think just don't make sense_  
_So where you been then? Don't go all coy_  
_Don't turn it round on me like it's my fault_  
_See I can see that look in your eyes_  
_The one that shoots me each and every time_

_You grace me with your cold shoulder_  
_Whenever you look at me I wish I was her_  
_You shower me with words made of knives_  
_Whenever you look at me I wish I was her_

_These days when I see you_  
_You make it look like see-through_  
_Do tell me why you waste our time_  
_When your heart ain't admitting you're not satisfied_  
_You know I know just how you feel_  
_I'm starting to find myself feeling that way too_

_Time and time again, I play the role of fool_  
_(Just for you)_  
_Even in the daylight when you think I don't see you_  
_Try to look for things I hear but our eyes never find_  
_'Though I do know how you play_

_You grace me with your cold shoulder_  
_Whenever you look at me I wish I was her_  
_You shower me with words made of knives_  
_Whenever you look at me I wish I was her_

I averted my eyes from all others in the room. But, I was able to get the sense that the group was receiving it well.

I couldn't listen to this song without thinking of Santana.

Ever since I first heard it, it reminded me of how devastated I was when Santana returned to school in eighth grade. She replaced me with Brittany almost instantaneously, and I was, from then on, continuously torn between hating Santana and wanting to be Brittany.

Now it was Sadie. It was awful having to watch them together at work the past couple of weeks. I wished that I had never discovered that Prom was their first time together. Part of me felt like I had just handed Santana to Sadie on a silver platter.

Every time they touched I had to fight myself to refrain from going off on her. Sadie looked so fucking pleased with herself whenever she turned her eyes my way. Maybe I was imagining it, but it felt like she was rubbing it in my face.

When she gave Santana's jersey back last Thursday, she purposely glanced over at me with a smile as she handed it to Santana. _Seriously._ If we weren't surrounded by children, I probably would have punched her in the face. _Not a slap. Full on punch._

_Have they had sex again?_ I couldn't help wondering. While I was having my kids paint peaceful landscapes, the landscape that I was painting was being ravaged by a tornado.

When I sat back down after disengaging my phone from the port, I felt Santana's eyes on me. I couldn't bring myself to turn my head. I was afraid of what I would see in that brown gaze.

Santana didn't rise when practice ended, and I knew her gaze was focused on me once again. I tried to fight the flush that always came when she stared at me like this.

Curiosity finally got the better of me, and I turned my head.

"Quinn." She breathed, and _god _how I wanted to hear her say my name like that over and over again. "That song…" She was interrupted by the banging of unfortunately mismatched piano keys.

_Hobbit. _

I could have killed her. I had thought that Santana and I were the only ones left in the room, but to be fair, I hadn't been paying much attention to anything else but her.

Rachel had slammed her head down on the piano keys, and now it was just resting there, the awful noise of the chord fading.

"She's waiting for us to ask her what's wrong." Santana smiled next to me, shaking her head in what I assumed was frustration.

"I know. I was just sort of hoping that she would give up eventually and leave." I responded honestly, before sighing, and crossing the room to our little brunette friend.

"Rach…" I tried to use a soothing tone, sitting next to her on the bench. "What happened with you and Finn?" I figured I could get right to the point, and maybe if this went quickly enough, Santana would still be in a talking mood when it was done.

"He told me that he didn't ever see himself leaving Lima." She sputtered, and Santana snorted derisively in the background.

_Not helping, Santana._

"Oh…" I never had spent too much time contemplating what Finn was going to do with his future, but it did seem like something he would say.

"I can't stay here, and I told him that. This is not where my future is." Rachel mouth was open and practically drooling on the keys as she explained.

We were joined by Santana before I could figure out how to respond appropriately.

"Damn right it isn't. I know you've been strangely infatuated with him since you first laid eyes on his fetus face, but high school relationships aren't forever, Rachel. Just let it be what it is for now. You don't need to have everything planned out at 17."

_Relationship advice from Santana Lopez, ladies and gentlemen. There you have it._

I was sure that my lack of enthusiasm for her advice was written all over my face.

"You don't get it, Santana. You're the queen of instant gratification, but I want forever, and I want it with him." Rachel whined.

Santana rolled her eyes. "You're going to be on Broadway. As much as you and I go at it sometimes, even I can admit that you are going to leave this shitty little town in your rearview mirror as soon as we graduate. Finn…well, he's going to end up like Mr. Schue only with a tenth of Mr. Schue's talent. And if Finn wants to be the wind beneath your dwarfen wings then all the power to the both of you. But, if he wants to drag you down to his level of mediocrity then you need to kick his knuckle-dragging ass to the curb."

Rachel laughed softly, finally raising her head completely from the piano keys.

"I envy you, Santana. You never get yourself hung up on stupid fairy tales. And then there's you, Quinn. It must be easier to make things work when you're a living and breathing Ken and Barbie." Rachel turned her eyes on me.

_Oh, she still thought that Sam and I were together._ I hadn't really contemplated whether people at school knew or not.

"Sam and I…we're not a thing anymore." Santana's eyes were immediately directed at me.

_Oh. Guess she didn't know either. _

"Ugh! Then we are all doomed!" Rachel waved her body from side to side dramatically like a crazed Muppet before she finally stopped to ask a question. "Why?"

I laughed before pausing to answer her question. "He wasn't who I wanted to be with."

* * *

I was only able to sleep for a couple of hours before something roused me from my much needed slumber. Now that I was awake, I couldn't manage to fall back asleep. No matter how much I tossed or turned. I blamed the the presence of Santana's warm body next to mine.

We were leaving for Nationals in the morning, and the group of us struggled to perfect choreography well into the night. When Santana had suggested that I crash at her place instead of risking waking my anal retentive parents, I was all too eager to accept.

Santana passed out on the bed before I even finished changing. I couldn't even be disappointed because it was so fucking cute.

But now, I was thinking that I would have achieved more hours of sleep in my own bed. Her soft rhythmic breathing should have been soothing, but instead, I was fixated on each and every exhale, every small noise, and every slight movement of shapely form.

I sighed heavily, crashing my head back into the pillow.

"Quinn? Are you awake?" _Oh fuck, I woke her up._

"Mmhmm…" I responded, guilt washing over me. More than anything right now Santana probably needed her rest, and here I was disturbing it with my sexually/romantically frustrated freak out.

"Good." She said in a tone that I couldn't place. The shift of the bed was the only warning I had before my friend was above me, her legs astride my hips, and her hair falling onto my face.

_Oh my god. _

I hoped that I didn't say that out loud.

My eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness, and I could very clearly see the smoldering brown of her gaze. Without further hesitation, she firmly pressed her lips to mine.

"No." The word was out of my mouth and against her lips before I registered making it. Santana removed her mouth from mine, her eyes fluttering open to reveal some mixture of lust and rejection.

_Are you kidding me? How could you even begin to think that I don't want you kissing me? _

As insane as I thought she was for thinking it, I never wanted to see that look again.

"No more kissing, Santana. Not until we talk." For the record, talking while Santana Lopez is straddling you is very _very _difficult to do.

She leaned back with one roll of her hips, which in turn applied more pressure to the growing heat between my legs, and crossed her arms over her stomach to pull her tank top up and over her head.

I grabbed a fistful of sheet on either side of me. My eyes didn't know where to start. As soon as my eyes could scan the contour of her bra, and the deliciously full curves above it, they were drawn down to the mouthwatering defined lines of her abs.

_No, not mouthwatering. My mouth just went dry. _

Before I could even attempt to speak, Santana adjusted her position, sliding a bare leg in between mine.

"What are you doing?" I panted.

"I'm not kissing you." And with that she pressed her leg down and against the thin fabric of my sleep shorts. I gasped, and the reflexive arch of my back only sent me harder against her.

"Mmm, I've wanted to do that ever since we were in the foam pit." She husked, and released some of the pressure of her leg, before grinding it down into me again.

_Another gasp. _

"There are _so _many things that I want to do to you." Her mouth was near my ear, and I arched again, my hands moving from the sheets to her forearms, dragging my nails down her bare skin.

_I wanted to experience them all. _

"But…we need to talk about us, about this." It pretty much came out as a moan, and she didn't discontinue the movement of her thigh.

"About_ this_? Feel free to talk about this, Quinn. That would be _so _hot." Her hair framed my face as her lips hovered above mine. _Oh fuck, that voice._

"Please." I didn't know what I was pleading for. I honestly did not know if I was asking her to fuck me or to tell me how she felt about me.

She drove the flesh of her thigh into the damp fabric of my shorts again, and I moaned loudly, driving my fingernails deeper into her skin.

"I'll stop if that's what you want, Quinn." I swear that I almost orgasmed when she said my name in that thickly sexy tone.

_No. Stopping is not what I want. _

"This is the time for you to speak." She warned, her hand sliding under the hem of my shirt to the skin of my side.

"Take me." I begged, and her hand turned a purposeful direction across my stomach, beneath the top of my shorts, and between us.

"Santana." I moaned her name, my hips rising off of the bed to willingly meet her hand.

* * *

My vision blurred as the bedroom and Santana floated away from me. I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to bring her back, to bring all of it back, as my body began to register the cushion of the airplane seat underneath me, and the familiar laughter of my friends.

_Oh no. _

Mercedes shoulders were shaking she was laughing so hard, and both Kurt and Tina were peering over the back of their seats at me, looking equally amused.

_Kill me now. _

"That shade of red looks good on you, Quinn." Kurt teased, and I covered my blushing face in my hands. _I was so mortified._

"Aw, it'll be okay. I mean who here _hasn't_ had a sex dream about Santana." Kurt shrugged, smiling broadly at his own admission.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

_Is it sad that this plane ride is the most relaxed that I have been in days? Probably. _

It was really nice to just sit, well and banter with Puck of course. Brittany had been engaged in most of our conversations since she was in one of the seats in front of us, but now we were discussing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Brittany took that as her cue to go to the bathroom.

"I think we would both be Raphael's, because we are both red hot, bad tempered, rebels." He argued, and I laughed, shaking my head.

"No way. Real ninjas never used twin sai. I want nunchucks."

"You are such a nerd." He pretended to push a pair of imaginary glasses along the bridge of his nose.

"Santana." My thighs clenched together at the sound that came from a nearby seat.

_Someone just moaned my name. Wanky. _

It wasn't just someone. _Quinn_ just moaned my name. I could recognize that voice in a crowd of any size, although I had never heard it quite like that. I couldn't see her from my seat, but the last time I left my seat, I _had_ noticed that she was passed out in hers.

I was instantly wet.

It was loud enough for _at least_ the back two rows to hear.

Kurt and Tina spun around in their chairs without missing a beat.

"Did you hear that?" Tina whispered to Mercedes, Quinn's seat partner.

"Sure did." Mercedes responded, and although I could only see her profile, I was sure that her eyes were as wide as Tina's and Kurt's.

"And another one bites the dust." Tina zinged, causing the other two to fall into a fit of laughter.

I forced myself to put my ear buds in at that point. I needed to think about something other than the heat pooling in between my legs.

Puck just smirked smugly next to me, and I hit him not so playfully in the arm before sinking down into my chair.

_This is going to be a long trip. _


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter XXIV**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

The jokes didn't stop. It didn't matter that I had retrieved my book from my bag to pretend to read or that I had stopped reacting to the laughter. Even my blush had faded.

Eventually, I asked Sam to switch me seats, and after he agreed, I sat down next to Brittany instead. She wasn't going to poke any fun at me since she wasn't in this part of the cabin when I embarrassed myself.

I ignored the half-hearted still giggling apologies that followed me as I took my new seat.

_Jerks. _

I was humiliated and angry, but Brittany didn't seem to notice. She flashed me an excited smile as soon as she realized that I was going to sit next to her, and proceeded to grab a pack of cards that she had stashed in the net in front of her.

"Uno?" She pleaded, tugging just one of her ear buds out of her ear. "Sam tried to play with me, but he couldn't understand the rules." She beamed at me with a smile of anticipation.

_God bless her. _

I was so grateful that she hadn't been around to hear me moan her ex-lover's name. Maybe she would have just given me a hard time like the others, but I had a feeling that it would have upset her in any case. And, that was the last thing that I would ever want.

_Well, at least I knew that it could have been worse. _

"Sure." I agreed, not wanting to do anything to negatively impact that smile of hers. Plus, a simple card game seemed like it would be a nice distraction right then.

As we played, there were indications that there was some sort of struggle going on behind us. I didn't look back, but I could hear rustling and sighs from both Puck and Santana.

I was disappointed that she had been so far ahead of me in the crowd when we first boarded. I had been hoping for a repeat of our Cheerio plane ride, but no dice. Besides the dream reaction, I _had_ enjoyed sitting with Mercedes, don't get me wrong, I love spending time with the girl, but it just wasn't the same.

Additionally, Mercedes didn't provide the calming presence that Santana always did for me during take offs and landings. If anything she was the opposite of a calming presence. With every turbulent shake she would yell "Oh hell to the no!" and I was left to just dig my fingernails into the arm rests.

Santana, on the other hand, would always take my hand, or she would get me to look at her instead of the quickly disappearing ground outside of the airplane window.

But, Puck and Santana _were_ entertaining together; I had to give them that.

"Sexual Politics, huh? _For shame_, Lopez. Reading your lady porn right next to me. I feel so violated." Puck badgered, and I could see out of my peripheral vision that he was holding the blue and pink covered book over his head and out of her reach.

"It's about _sexism_ not _sex_, you asshole. Give it back to me." Santana corrected, her direction to her mohawked friend sounding more like a threat than anything else.

_Intellectual free-reading material? _

_Really, Santana? _

_ Okay, that's it. Here are my ovaries. They're yours._ _Just take them already._

From the pained noise Puck made, he did not heed Santana's threat.

"Fuck, ouch. What the hell was that?" He grunted.

"That was me using one of your pressure points to get my book back." Santana answered matter-of-factly.

One of these days, I really wanted to see the supposed martial arts set up in her basement. Preferably with her in it. Preferably with her allowing me to watch while she does her thing. _That sounded dirty. Okay, maybe it was. Just a little. _

Brittany's eyes rose expectantly and impatiently to meet mine. _Oh, it's my turn. Whoops._

"I don't think you're supposed to be using your lesbian lady lovin' knowledge for evil. Isn't that against your guys' code or something?" Puck whined, and I bit my lip to prevent myself from laughing.

"Oh my god, how are we friends?! I said _pressure_ point. Not _erogenous _zone. It's official, you are sexually incompetent." Santana jokingly fumed, and I was confident that her hands were probably moving dramatically behind me.

Brittany gave me a quizzical look as I officially lost the battle with my laughter. She obviously wasn't listening to the conversation.

"I don't understand half of the words that you just said. You know I don't speak Spanish, Lopez." Puck responded, and I wasn't 100% sure that he was kidding. Maybe 99% sure. Puck _was_ smarter than he let on.

Unrelated to the events to our rear, Brittany's eyes widened suddenly in what appeared to be unbridled excitement. She reached to hold her one remaining ear bud firmly in place and scrambled upwards to face the squabbling pair behind us.

_I assume Uno's over then. _

I began gathering the cards before they could end up all over the cabin floor. I was sure that losing some of her Uno cards would make the blonde very sad, and a sad Brittany makes everyone sad.

"Sanny!" The tall blonde exclaimed. "Guess which song just came on my player…"

"I don't know, B, the Sweet Valley High theme song?" Santana guessed and Brittany shook her head energetically in response. The pair used to watch that show all the time together.

"Nope. The Karmin version of Look At Me Now." Brittany answered, and Santana groaned immediately in response.

"No…don't even think about it." Santana refused, and my eyebrows rose in curiosity.

"Please, San? You haven't done it for me in _so _long and it makes me so happy!" Brittany begged allowing her lower lip to protrude slightly.

She gestured for me to turn around and join her with a hand that Santana couldn't see. The blonde obviously knew that she was going to get what she wanted.

Santana sighed heavily, and I could tell that she was going to give in. I couldn't blame her. Brittany's pout is undeniably cute. I followed Brittany's gesture and rotated onto my knees to face Puck and Santana behind us.

"What if I just do it for you later?" Santana's expression was one of apprehension as she attempted to compromise with the tall blonde.

"But I want to hear it now! Please? For me?" With that, Brittany drove the last nail into the coffin that was Santana's protests. I could hear the defeated girl press the metal button of her seatbelt in order to remove it.

Santana rolled her eyes. "You owe me, B." Brittany nodded with her usual enthusiasm. "And you better be singing the chorus with me." Brittany nodded again in agreement.

Santana's lithe fingers reached for the ear bud that was hanging by Brittany's chest.

I wasn't familiar with the song, and thus, I had no idea what was about to happen. I was lost because Brittany was able to hear Santana sing all the time. I mean, the brunette is great, but we _were_ in Glee club. She had plenty of opportunities to hear Santana flex her sultry pipes.

_Why all the fuss?_

"Start it over." Santana guided, and Brittany was quick to oblige, rolling her thumb over the circular controls.

While Brittany was fiddling with her player, Santana's eyes found mine. Her eyes were charged, rippling in a fashion that reminded me of the look that she gave me after she made me gasp in the foam pit.

I, of course, flashed right back to my dream at the thought.

_What is she thinking about? _Her chestnut gaze was making my heart race, and I couldn't look away.

_This woman drives me crazy. _

"This is going to be so unattractive." She shook her head gently in my direction, a small smile playing at her lips. It almost sounded like an apology when she said it. It was endearing.

_Did that mean that she wanted me to find her attractive_? My stomach flipped at the thought.

I was itching with curiosity at this point. _What could she possibly do to make her seem unattractive? Did she have any idea what she looked like?_ It wasn't even just that. Santana is obviously objectively, and in my case subjectively, stunning, but combine that with her undeniable charm and her self-assertive attitude, and unattractive is a practical impossibility.

Brittany was gathering the attention of some of the others around us, and Santana shot her an irritated look before her eyes returned to mine.

"I'll believe it when I see it." _Shit._ _I can't believe I just said that out loud. _Good thing I was all blushed out for the day. At least, I hoped.

Brittany turned back to us before Santana could give me more than a brief probing look.

Santana smiled hesitantly at me as she inserted the ear bud. A few more seconds passed, and then off she went…

_Yellow model chick_  
_Yellow bottle sippin'_  
_Yellow lamborghini_  
_Yellow top missin'_

_'Cause I feel like I'm running and I feel like a gotta_  
_Get away get away, better know that I don't_  
_And I won't ever stop, 'cause you know I gotta win_  
_Everyday day day._

_See, they don't really really wanna pop me,_  
_Just know that you'll never stop me._  
_And I know I can be a little cocky._  
_Ooohhh, you ain't never gonna flop me._  
_Every time I come a jigga gotta set it_  
_Then I got it going, then I gotta get it_  
_Then I gotta blow it, and then I'm gonna shudder_  
_Any little thing the jigga think that he'd be doin'_  
_'Cause it doesen't matter, cause I'm gonna dadadadadada._  
_Then I'm gonna murder everything and anything,_  
_A badaboom, badabing, got to do a lot of things,_  
_And make it clearer to a couple of jiggas that I'm always winnin'_  
_And I gotta get it again and again and again._

_And I be doin it to death and now I move a little foul._  
_A jigga better call a ref, and everybody know my style,_  
_Jiggas know that I'm the best. When I come out doin' this,_  
_And I be bangin' on my chest._  
_And I bang in the east and I bang in the west_  
_And I come to give you more, and I will never gave you less._  
_You will hear it in the street or you can read it in the press._  
_Do you really wanna know what's next?_  
_See, the way we on it, when we all up in the race,_  
_And you know we gotta go don't try to keep up with the pace._  
_And we strugglin' and hustlin' and sendin' in and gettin' in._  
_And always gotta do it, take it to another place._  
_Gotta taste it, and I gotta grab it, I gotta cut through all this traffic_  
_Just to be at the top of the throne I gotta have it! (gotta have it)_

_Look at me now,_  
_Look at me now oh._  
_I'm gettin' paper._  
_Look at me now oh_  
_Look at me now yeah yeah yeah._  
_Fresh than a mu-whut?_

Santana wasn't halfway through the first chorus before she was joined by Brittany, Mercedes, Tina, Puck, and Mike for the non-rap portions. Apparently I was the only one who wasn't familiar with the song.

Kurt was swaying from side to side wearing the duck face that he makes when he's trying to be "hip". I was sure that any non-Glee clubbers on the plane probably hated us.

Santana inhaled deeply as soon as she finished. The rapping wasn't exactly conducive to breathing properly.

I hoped my mouth wasn't hanging open.

_Since when does Santana rap? _

I had no idea that she was capable of all of that. Yet another skill to add to the list of things that I had learned about Santana recently.

She could move her mouth, and with that her tongue, ridiculously fast.

I could see why Brittany had wanted her to do it so badly. It was really entertaining.

I couldn't stop smiling throughout the whole thing. There was something rather dorky about it, but appealing at the same time.

"You were right. That was _really_ unattractive." I teased as soon as our section of the plane had quieted down again, crossing my arms over the headrest of my chair.

I watched Santana's eyes flicker to the now seated Brittany before she responded.

"I warned you. But, hopefully you can still bring yourself to remain friends with me after witnessing that." She was leaning back partially on her arm rest and partially on the wall behind her.

For once, she was in relatively comfy clothes. Her hands were in the pockets of her black hoodie as she engaged in our verbal back and forth.

But, she was still wearing that fucking lip gloss. I missed the taste of it. _Desperately._

"I don't know…it _was _quite hideous. I'm pretty embarrassed just to be on the same plane as you right now." I jested, my eye contact wavering every so often to trace the lines of her lips.

"I think you should sit down." She advised, leaning forward from her position, bringing her face closer to mine with a challenging smirk.

"Oh yeah, and why is that?" I cocked in eyebrow, my cheeks warming, enjoying our flirtatious exchange.

She pointed to the seat belt light that had just blinked on before she slid off the armrest and into her own seat with a laugh.

I pushed my tongue against my teeth in exasperation, shaking my head before returning my butt to my seat.

_She's purposefully trying to drive me crazy. I'm sure of it._

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I squeezed Puck's arm in excitement as we approached the baggage claim area. He grinned back at me, slinging his carry on over his shoulder.

_I'm back in New York! _

I could barely contain my enthusiasm. Many of my fellow singers had never been to the Big Apple, but my mom's firm is headquartered here, and I had been fortunate enough to be able to visit a handful of times. I could never get enough.

Quinn appeared to be almost nervous as she scanned the carousel for her bag. I was pretty sure that this was her first time here. She was going to love it, I was sure of that.

Hopefully Mr. Schue didn't keep us locked up too much, because I needed to be getting my New York on.

After I powered my phone back on, I swiped my thumb to find Quinn's name. I thought that I could just let the whole moaning my name thing go, but I couldn't. It was _too _good. I realized that it was immature, but _fuck_, I was really curious.

**So are you going to tell me about this dream of yours, Q, or are you going to just leave me to my imagination? **

I sent the text, studying her reaction as she read it. I couldn't tell if she was pissed or amused. _Shit._

This wasn't really the appropriate time for my imagination to run wild, not that a thorough explanation of her dream would be any better. It would probably be much worse, actually. But, it was a compulsion. I needed to know.

**I hate you. **

_Pissed it is then_, although she did shoot me a sideways smile as she pulled her large green suitcase off of the belt.

**Hate sex is some of the best kind. **

I boldly texted her back. I knew that I was playing with fire here, but it was difficult. Our new chemistry was dangerous, but it was fun. I loved being playful with her.

**Stop teasing me, Santana. **

I took my bottom lip between my teeth, tucking my phone away as my luggage rounded the bend.

_Teasing? If she thinks that this is me teasing then she hasn't a clue of what I can do. _

_ Oh god, _I needed to stop. Now my mind was flooded with images of a begging and naked Quinn, with scarves tying her wrists to my headboard.

_Stop. _

I avoided Brittany's gaze. Of anyone here, she would know what my face looks like when I'm having inappropriate thoughts.

It wasn't until we were outside and waiting for the hotel shuttle that I retrieved my phone to text Quinn back.

**Oh, is that what I was doing in your dream? ;)**

She glanced back at me as she read the text, and I watched as her other hand tightened around the handle of her suitcase. _Hot. _

_**No. **_

I narrowed my eyes at the one syllable response.

_Was that her way of shutting down the conversation? _

I debated whether or not to answer while I carried my suitcase onto the shuttle. I climbed in behind Mike, and found a seat next to Brittany in the back.

My phone unexpectedly buzzed in my pocket.

**Dream you actually finishes what she starts. **

And there was the explanation for the "No." And once again, Quinn Fabray had me hopelessly turned on.

_Holy shit. _

_Um, bus driver, could we pull over please? I have some business that I need to take care of. _

_ What the fuck did that text mean? _

If this wasn't Quinn that I was dealing with here, I wouldn't read into it so much. Honestly, I would just assume that the girl wanted to have sex with me. But, this _was_ Quinn, and I had no idea that she was so brazen. And by brazen, I mean mind-blowingly sexy.

_Believe me, Quinn. I would love to make you finish. Over and over again, in fact._

I was tempted to send her something along those lines, but I was treading a very dangerous line here already.

Just last week, I had promised myself that I would be a good friend to this girl, and here I was brainstorming various ways that I could get her alone. And, of course, all of the things I could to do to her once we _were_ alone.

Quinn was seated near the front of the shuttle, and I could only barely see her blonde hair through the other heads and bodies. I really wanted to check her expression to get some clue as to how she meant her response to me.

_Was she playing with me? Was she angry? Was there some bitterness behind that message?_

I wish I knew. I didn't feel like I had been a tease. Just the idea of being thought of as a tease in Quinn's eyes made me want to laugh.

Brittany gave me a curious look, and with that, I tucked my phone away again. Instead of responding to the text, I listened to my best friend ramble excitedly about a building outside of the window while I fiddled with the tag on my luggage.

_This is going to be a long trip. _


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter XXV**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

_Two beds and one pull-out couch for eight people._

I had actually expected worse for our room. Mr. Schue had separated us into two groups for the rooms. Girls in one, boys in the other, however, he _had _split up Kurt and Blaine since the two of them were dating.

Unsurprisingly, Blaine didn't even get a chance to voice an opinion before Kurt asserted that he would be with us.

As soon as we had entered our room, Brittany snatched my bag from my shoulder and threw it next to hers on the first bed, claiming it as ours.

"It'll be just like old times, San!" Brittany asserted with a huge smile.

_No. Not just like old times. _

As Brittany and I continued to become closer again, I had to be meticulous about not giving her any mixed signals. And, it really bothered me that lately, for the first time since eighth grade, I had to worry about sharing a bed with Brit.

It was difficult to regret anything that had happened between us, however. My first time with a girl was with Brittany, and for that alone she would always be special to me. Even more than that, she had allowed me to explore my sexuality, my needs, and my cravings. She was never judgmental, and she never made me feel like less of a person for being who I was.

We fit together sexually. She was adventurous like me. There was also the fantastic bonus of not having to worry about sneaking out or kicking her out when it was over because things never were weird between us.

_Well…until things did get weird that is._

We connected on so many levels. She was the light to my dark. While I was frequently negative, she was always providing me with a positive perspective. She was my _best_ friend.

Sometimes I worry how bad things would have been for me without her. I was exceedingly self-destructive. I had been living for anger and anger alone.

When Brittany came into my life, or rather when I dragged her into it, I had just pushed away my best friend. My father had already left, and my mother was becoming increasingly absent. As for the cream on the crappy cake, after the friend ending event with Quinn, I started truly struggling with my sexuality.

I was mad at the world, and I hated myself. Without Brittany, I wasn't sure that I would have ever emerged from that darkness. I was sure that I wouldn't be anywhere close to where I was now without her.

She had made it more difficult to despise myself. She had consistently pointed good things out that were inside of me that I never acknowledged. She defended me to others, and she was never ashamed of me or her relationship with me.

So why didn't I just make things legitimate with Brittany, and give myself to her to the exclusion of all others? It wasn't just that I loved her too much or that I couldn't risk our friendship by entering into an actual relationship. It was _because _Brittany was my best friend that I couldn't. She wasn't my end all be all or even a significant romantic interest. If we were together, we would be best friends who were girlfriends rather than girlfriends who were best friends.

What's the issue with that? For many people, that is the dream. But, I needed someone to take me out of my comfort zone. I needed someone to intellectually challenge me. I needed someone who sent my heart racing rather than just my libido.

I could be sweet with Brit, I could be fun with Brit, and I could even be hot and heavy with Brit, but romantic? It just wasn't there. _Not for me._

A third bag bounced onto our bed without hesitation. "Except I'll be there." Quinn corrected in a not so pleasant tone.

_Kinky. _

_ Stop. _

I needed to get control over myself ASAP if I was going to make it through this weekend. It wasn't easy. Not with Quinn moaning my name on the plane earlier, or our flirtatious exchange after Brittany convinced me to do "Look At Me Now", and certainly not after our text interaction. I was a sexual being, and I needed some sort of release.

Even if I thought that seeking such a release with Quinn was a wise decision, my prospects were not looking good in that department. The shorter blonde seemed irritated to say the least. Since the shuttle, she hadn't thrown a single smile my way. I wasn't sure if it had to do with the text that she sent me or the fact that I still hadn't texted her back.

"Makes sense to stick the three stick figures together." Mercedes mumbled while pulling things out of her bag that she had placed on the second bed.

"Please. Have you seen our guns?" Brittany goaded, and although we didn't join her, Quinn and I laughed as Brittany flexed her arms. My dancer friend was certainly not without muscle.

A small sense of relief washed over me at Quinn's laugh. At least she hadn't gone into complete Ice Queen mode.

Before we could do more than shuffle our luggage around, Mr. Schue was in the hallway, shouting for us to hurry up. With that, I unzipped my bag to exchange my hoodie for a blue draped sleeve top, and piled out with the other Glee members to meet Mr. Schue.

It was a good couple of hours, for the most part. And that was in despite of the fact that Mr. Schue wouldn't let us ride the subway, which meant we were limited to what was within walking distance of us. He also wouldn't allow us to split up at all. That part was especially frustrating because I had no desire to participate in Rachel's hunt for NYC leg warmers.

Most of my peers spent the majority of time gazing upwards, and snapping pictures with their phones. Although I ended up running into someone's back more than a few times, they _were_ kinda cute.

The NYC pizza parlor we lunched at was definitely a highlight, even if Finn is absolutely disgusting when he eats.

Quinn more than made up for Finn's disgusting display, with her struggle to prevent cheese from getting all over her face. She had started her dining experience by attempting to eat her pizza with a fork and knife, but finally relented to using her hands after receiving many a chiding from the rest of her table.

"Give it up, Q. It's okay to get a little messy sometimes." I smiled at her as she pulled a string of cheese away from her chin in embarrassment.

The glare that she gave me was completely void of any humor. Not only was it void of humor, it was filled with resentment. She looked shocked, but at the same time, she looked like she was about to reach over the table and slam my head into the pizza on my plate.

_What the hell?_

Mercedes busted up laughing almost instantaneously and Tina was quick to explain my mistake.

"Didn't dream Quinn already give it up?" Tina teased, and Kurt started laughing so hard that he spit his bite of pizza into his napkin.

_Fuck. _

The vast majority of the table just looked on in confusion as the select few who were in on the joke laughed.

Well, except for me. I genuinely felt bad. I probably shouldn't have even joked about it with her privately. I had no desire to do so publicly. Especially with how upset she looked at the moment.

Quinn pushed her chair back, making that uncomfortably loud screeching noise with the wood floor before she stormed in the direction of the bathroom.

"What was that about?" Rachel asked, obviously feeling out of the loop.

Mercedes opened her mouth to speak, but slammed her jaw shut as soon as I scowled in her direction.

"It's nothing, Rachel. Right, everyone?" One by one I received a nod from Puck, Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina.

"It sounded like something." Rachel mumbled to herself.

I wanted to go after Quinn, but I didn't want to make an even bigger scene of the whole thing. Also, I didn't trust these people enough not to spill the beans as soon as I left.

"Will…" Miss Pillsbury interrupted, nervously glancing away from her phone and in the curly-haired man's direction. "I just received word that one of the other groups is doing Paradise by the Dashboard Light."

Mr. Schue clapped his hand over his forehead, rather violently I may add, and said something that sounded a whole lot like a curse word under his breath.

The table erupted immediately in a jumbled mess of panicked exclamations and accusations. My Coach Sue's name was raised more than once during the chaos.

"Quiet down everyone. We'll get this figured out." Mr. Schue ordered, now with both hands on his face as he contemplated possible options.

His interruption only served to bring the volume down to a low roar, but we all were repetitively looking in our Director's direction in hopes that he had decided on a solution.

"Okay. Here's what we're going to do. Brittany, Mike, and Santana, you three are going to come back with me to choreograph a new number. Anyone else who wants to work with me on the song arrangement is free to come along. As for the rest of you, Miss Pillsbury will stay with you. Feel free to finish your food, and maybe stop at one more place. But be sure to meet us back at the hotel no later than 3 p.m." The table finally grew quiet as he laid out his plan.

There was many a groan to be heard. Today wasn't supposed to be a day spent practicing. We were supposed to be able to enjoy the city rather than spend our time here pent up in some practice room sweating all over each other.

"Guys, I know this isn't ideal, and I know you wanted to see more of the city, but we came here for _this_. We came here to win." He threw his napkin down onto the table to punctuate his little speech.

_Why me?_

Brittany and Mike were more than capable of choreographing a new number with Mr. Schue. I was a dance instructor for _kids_. I sure as hell was not on the same level as the two of them. It was rare that I was asked to give input for choreography.

But whatever, I was here to win, just like everyone else, and although I was quick to argue normally, I was willing to do whatever I could to help this group of misfits win a National title.

I vacated my seat, as Brittany and Mike did the same. Rachel, predictably, volunteered to come along as well. And then, because Rachel was coming, Mercedes joined us in turn. My powerhouse friend didn't want to miss any sort of opportunity to compete for a song part against Rachel.

As we left the restaurant, I took one last glance back toward the bathroom.

_Still no sign of Quinn. _

I didn't know when I was going to get the opportunity to explain myself, and that bothered me greatly.

_My, how life had changed._

Six months ago I would have loved to piss Quinn off enough to make her storm out of a room. Now I couldn't stand it.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence here, Teach, but are you going to tell me why I'm really a part of this Band-Aid Brigade?" I inquired once we hit the sidewalk, while we all struggled to keep up with Mr. Schue's speedy and determined strides.

"I heard what you did on the plane, Santana, and it gave me an idea." He provided me with a mysterious answer as he increased the length of his strides even further.

_What was he…? _

_ Oh. Shit._

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Since we had stepped off of the plane, this whole trip had been one big disappointment. First, although I had somehow gathered the nerve to give Santana an honest reply to her text about my dream, she didn't bother to respond. Not only that, but she decided to publicly humiliate me by making fun of me about it in front of the whole group. I was_ livid_. The only good part of the day so far was that she was gone by the time I had returned from the bathroom.

I didn't want _anyone_ to know what was going on between Santana and me. Especially when _I_ didn't even know what was going on between Santana and me. Now I probably just looked like yet another stupid girl who wanted in Santana's pants.

Oh, and not to mention that Brittany was probably going to try to cuddle, at the very least, with Santana all night. As soon as Brittany claimed a spot as Santana's sleep buddy, I knew that I had to find some way to end up between them. I had told myself that it was my effort to preserve their friendship and the promise that they had made to one another months ago, but that was pretty much complete bullshit.

_Argh. _

"Quinn, you have to smile during this section!" Mr. Schue ordered from the front of the large room.

I flashed him the fakest, brightest smile that I could muster before launching into a spin with my neighboring Glee members.

Things had been complicated lately, that's for sure, but in general I had been so much happier than I had been in years. And now, well, now I was back to the bitter and icy version of Quinn Fabray.

Lately, I had been happy for Santana when anything good had happened to her, but right now, it was all I could do not to roll my eyes every time she opened her mouth to perform the new number.

I hated how good it was. I hated how good _she _was.

I didn't know how Mr. Schue had managed to get us this room in the hotel last minute.

_Maybe because the other groups weren't scrambling to put together a whole new number the day before the competition._

I was pushing out the side door within seconds of Mr. Schue announcing a 10 minute break. I didn't have any care as to where I was headed while I twisted down one hallway after another. I just wanted to get as far away as possible.

"Quinn!" I cringed at the sound of Santana's voice calling after me.

_No. _

It may have been far past _her_ turn to chase after _me_, but I was not in the mood to be chased. I needed my space or I was going to lose it.

"Quinn. Will you stop? Please?" She jogged up behind me, and made the mistake of putting her hand on my shoulder to slow my strides.

I spun around and smacked her hand away. She looked surprised, but she didn't attempt to touch me again. _Good. _

"Are you stupid? Do I look like I want you around me right now?" I seethed, baring my teeth.

I would have rather been back in Lima, Ohio right now than in a hallway with Santana in NYC.

"No…I…" She stumbled to find her words, appearing to be genuinely wounded.

"I…I...you…you…what?" I mocked her, no longer in control of the head bitch raging inside of me.

"You think you're funny, Santana? Do you think this is one _enormous _joke? It's horrible enough for me to have put myself out there for you time after time, only to have you relentlessly leave me hanging, but for you to throw that in my face at the soonest available opportunity is _really _fucked up. _You're_ really fucked up." I couldn't stop it. All of my frustration with the Santana and our situation was boiling up and over the edge.

"Yes, I _am_ fucked up. How good of you to notice." Santana responded, her voice level, but her eyes were far from tranquil. "I'm gonna go ahead and let you calm down from bitch mode. Find me when you're ready to talk." As she started to turn around I threw my head back in a bitter laugh.

"When _I'm_ ready to talk? You've gotta be fucking kidding me." I shouted at her turned back, clenching my fists at my sides.

"Twitter Alert! Santana Lopez is walking away _once_ again." I didn't stop spewing my word venom even though my target was half way down the corridor already.

Santana paused, before slowly rotating on her heels.

_She is actually going to fight back? Good. I'm ready for her. _

"For the record, Q, I felt _really_ bad about what happened at the restaurant. I was coming out here to apologize, and to explain to you that I wasn't even talking about your dream. I was _just _talking about pizza. That's it. I didn't realize that they would take it that way or I never would have said it." Santana explained. Her voice didn't waver, but her tone gave her degree of injury away.

She disappeared around the corner before I could react. It was far from the fight that I had expected.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. _

I could tell that not only had she been telling the truth, but that I had also really hurt her by what I said. I sunk down against the nearest wall. _Why was I doing this?_

Santana was right when she said HBICs don't mix. This was a prime example of that. When you attempt to fuse two powerful personalities together, it's just a mess.

_Why did I keep holding on then? _

_ Why did I continue to read into every look and touch? _

_ What choice did I have? _

We could try to be strictly platonic friends, but I was pretty sure that it would be all kinds of impossible to do that at this point. And the alternative…I couldn't even contemplate the alternative anymore. She was such a big part of my life, and held such a big piece of my heart now. Being nothing to her was not an option.

I sighed, running my hand roughly through my hair before bumping my head on the wall behind me. _How am I going to fix this?_

* * *

My body hurt. _Everywhere._ I felt like I had just been through an insane Cheerio Hell Day rather than five hours of learning choreography and doing song run throughs.

By the way that multiple other girls were plopping face first into the beds, I knew I wasn't the only one feeling the pain.

"My booty would rather go through booty camp a thousand more times than do _that_ again." Mercedes groaned into her comforter.

"I know what you mean. I finally understand where my kidneys are, and they are _upset_." Sugar echoed from some unknown place in the room.

"Really team? It's not even 9 p.m. and we're in New York City, and you all are just going to lay there and whine yourselves to sleep?" Santana objected. She was the only girl, or Kurt, still standing.

I couldn't handle "take on the world" Santana right now. I wanted a cuddly Santana who would tell me that she had forgiven my earlier outburst while we fell asleep.

I hadn't really experienced cuddly Santana since we were kids, except for the day when her parents came to school and during our recent sleepovers when her slumbering self would subconsciously hold me in the middle of the night. But, I could dream.

"Mr. Schue said that we couldn't go anywhere." Rachel grumbled, allowing her brown-nose to shine through once again.

"He's not exactly staking out our door now is he? You all can do what you want, but I'm going to shower today off, and have me some non-Lima Loser adventures." I saw one of Santana's emphatic hand gestures out of the corner of my eye before she swayed her way into the bathroom.

This _was_ my first time in New York City, and she had a fair point. We were tired, but we couldn't waste the night by sleeping in our over packed hotel room. Plus, I really needed to find a minute alone with Santana to apologize for earlier, and that was not going to happen if I stayed around here with this eccentric sleepy bunch.

* * *

"No. No me gusta, ladies. I want to see short dresses and tight pants. None of this frumpy high school lost and confused shit." Santana criticized the outfits of the room.

Absentmindedly, I wondered whether she spoke Spanish while she was having sex.

_Yeah, I **so** cannot consider myself to be straight anymore. _

Everyone had decided to tag along with Santana. Except for Kurt. He apparently had already made plans to have a late night coffee rendezvous with Blaine. He seemed to be having a good time helping everyone else get dressed though.

"You know it would be really helpful if we knew where you were taking us." Rachel squeaked.

If Santana's outfit was any indication, this was not going to be any normal night out on the town. She was wearing the hell out of a little black dress that did everything to accentuate her curves, as well as her irresistible cleavage. Once again, I will not even get started on that ass.

She had done her makeup in a dramatic cat eye fashion that I had never seen on her before, and her lips were glossed to shiny perfection. She had exchanged her typical diamond stud earrings for wide silver hoops.

Santana was beautiful even in her completely stripped down form. It was a rare form to see, but even when Santana wore no makeup, sweats, with her hair tossed up in a messy ponytail, she was beautiful.

_But right now, she could fucking stop traffic. _

If she was "walking sex" before, she was a walking orgasm now.

"I told you to look hot. This…Yentl, _not_ hot. Also, you look like you're twelve, and that is just not going to work." Santana pinched the shoulder of Rachel's sweater between her thumb and forefinger in disgust.

Santana was right. Rachel's sweater reached all the way to her neck, and her new leggings were doing nothing good for her.

"Kurt, give Rachel's hair some volume. Quinn, will you fix her makeup?" _Oh, she was speaking to me._ That was a good sign. She hadn't said anything directly to me since our encounter in the hallway.

I fetched my makeup bag without hesitation and met Kurt with Santana's hair iron on the second bed. Before we went to work on her hair and makeup, I retrieved a more fortunate top out of my bag for Berry and instructed her to remove her leggings.

Surprisingly, the little brunette didn't raise a single argument.

"Will someone _please_ give Sugar a jacket or something? She looks like she just walked out of an elementary prep school. Let's look mature here people!" Santana clapped, and I was immediately reminded of the hundreds of cheer practices where she had done just that.

This was intense. This certainly wasn't the first time that Santana had commented on the fashion choices of others, but right now, it seemed like she had a personal interest in the appearance of each and every one of us.

Besides Brittany, I was the only one who Santana hadn't critiqued in some way yet. I followed Santana's example as soon as she put on her little black number, and changed into my emerald dress that fell three inches above my knee.

I chose that particular dress because I _wanted_ her to look at me, but unfortunately, I didn't catch her eyes scanning me even once while we were getting everyone ready. I was disappointed to say the least.

_Was I kidding myself when I thought that she was attracted to me? _

It would have been much easier to believe that she could be, had Santana ever told me that she was attracted to me. I had told her that I wanted her, and although her nonverbal response after Prom was _phenomenal_, it wasn't the same as actually hearing her say it.

_I need to hear it. I need to hear so many things from her._

* * *

**Santana's POV**

The air was brisk, but it wasn't unbearable, especially when I had six other girls huddled around me. They were moderately disappointed when I had I told them that we couldn't invite the boys. One, it would be too many people, and two, the guys all looked far too young for what I was planning. Well not all of them. Puck could pass as someone of age, and Finn…well Finn could probably pass as a rhythmically challenged 35-year-old. Otherwise, there were way too many baby faces.

I slid my subway pass through the slot, pushing through the turnstile while the vast majority of my comrades were still attempting to figure out the pass machines.

I took full advantage of my moment alone on the other side of the gate to do what I had wanted to do since the second that Quinn put on that dress.

I checked her out.

She looked so good that it was almost painful. _Her ass. My god._ It seemed like it had been so long since Prom, since I had actually had my hands on her perfectly cuppable butt.

I wanted her. I hated that I still wanted her after the reaming that she gave me in the hallway, but I had _never_ not wanted Quinn Fabray. That was pretty much the only constant in my life.

I was hurt, but I wasn't dead.

And well, most of what she said was well deserved. The pizza place comment was not intentional, but besides that, I hadn't exactly been the most constant of a friend to her. I had thought that I had been doing better though, but her words always did tend to pierce me in a way that no others did. I definitely felt like a much smaller person after hearing them.

I could make all of the personal progress in the world, but Quinn had the power to make it seem like no progress at all with just one insult.

Brittany was surprisingly the first one through the turnstile after me. She draped her arm over my shoulder, leaning into me as we waited for the others.

"Your calves are looking _tight_ in those heels, San." Brittany appraised, her eyes roaming the length of my legs.

It probably didn't mean anything, but I had to be careful.

"Aw, thanks, B." I expressed my gratitude, but shifted away from her tall form while doing so.

I watched Quinn try to slide her card through for about the tenth time, before I stepped forward and extended my arm over her turnstile to slide my own card through for her.

"You don't have to do that." She spoke softly, and I could feel her eyes searching for mine.

"I do. We only have so much time." I gave her a simple explanation, refusing her nonverbal request for eye contact.

She reached for my hand as she pushed through the turnstile, but I turned away, joining the group ahead of us.

"Don't touch anything. There are things living in the bacteria here that will ruin our vocal chords forever." Rachel Berry warned, skipping erratically to the side, her limp hands by her chest, attempting to avoid some unknown masses on the ground.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

_I was a moron. _

_ There, I said it. Complete and utter moron. _

It would be easier after what I had done, if Santana was treating everyone like shit, but no, she was doing the whole "I'm not going to say that I care about any of you losers, but my actions will obviously show that I do." And they did.

After today, none of us had expected to have the chance to see Times Square, but Santana made it happen. Rachel was able to swirl around amongst the bright lights, while Sugar and Brittany took pictures of themselves with a giant Bradley Cooper ad campaign in the background.

She didn't have to lead us here. I knew that this wasn't her first, second, or fifth trip to the City.

_Why did she have to look like __**that**__, and be a total sweetheart?_ It drove me mad.

I was overwhelmed with the novel sights and the sounds around me, but it was nothing compared to how overwhelmed I was by her.

After allowing for a few souvenir pit stops, Santana brought us to a food cart that served the best gyro that I have ever had.

"Santana, this is all great, but I don't understand why we had to all get dressed to the nines for it?" Tina asked, with a mouthful of gyro, the question that I was sure was on everyone's mind.

"We aren't finished with the night yet, my young Padawan." Santana attempted to answer in her usual vague manner, but at least three eyebrows rose at Santana's word choice.

"Did you really just make a Star Wars reference?" Tina inquired after a moment of shocked silence.

"Is that what that's from? Too much time hanging with Mike and Artie, I guess." Santana didn't seem to be too embarrassed, or maybe she was too focused on the texting that she was doing on her phone to care. She just shrugged, shooting a smile over her shoulder in Tina's direction as she began to travel away from the food cart.

"Uh huh. Sure." Tina laughed and shot the rest of us an "I'm not convinced at all" look.

Brittany linked her arm through mine as we followed Santana's swaying hips to our next destination. Brittany retrieved two of the liquor nips that Santana had passed out to us while we were on the subway, and proceeded to hand me one.

"I am far too sober to take this without a chaser." I admitted, attempting to hand the miniature bottle back to my taller friend.

"Take it or I'll give it to Rachel." Brittany threatened.

It was a very effective threat. Drunk Rachel was extremely annoying, and there would be no Finn here to take care of her when she got messy. No one wanted that burden to fall on them.

"Playing dirty, I see. You're not as innocent as everyone thinks." With that we clinked the two bottles together and down the hatch they went. I grimaced and immediately began searching my purse for a piece of gum.

"Nope." She smiled over at me, helping me hold open the sides of my purse. She had taken her shot with barely a flinch. _How does she do that?_ "Hey, Q?"

"Yeah, hun?" I answered, clearly distracted with my gum mission.

_Found it! _

"It's okay to think Santana looks really _really_ hot, even though I'm with Artie, right?"

I wish I had spent just a few more seconds looking for my gum so I wouldn't have had to see the expression on Brittany's face, and so I wouldn't have had to see her eyes bounce up and down in the manner that they did. There was barely a shred of guilt in that blue gaze as it followed Santana's moving form.

_Alright, no more alcohol for Brittany. _

"Um, I don't know, Brit. That's between you and Artie." _Was that a diplomatic enough response?_

It was far more diplomatic than what I had wanted to say. But hey, it would have been quite hypocritical for me to tell someone to just get the fuck over Santana when I couldn't do the same. That sure as hell didn't stop my jealousy, however.

But more importantly than my little green-eyed monster, I didn't want to find Brittany crying in the bathroom again. To be fair, the tall blonde did seem more focused on missing the physical aspect of Santana rather than any emotional attachment they may have had. Possibly, that was progress.

Back to my green-eyed monster, Brittany was lucky that I loved her so much, because if I knew of any other Cheerio who had sexed Santana countless times, I would be making that bitch do laps all summer long. There _were_ benefits to being in charge again.

_Poor Artie. _

It was sad that Artie was my last thought on the matter.

Within a few short blocks, Santana had us waiting in a semi-long very well dressed line that was snaking into an old brick building.

Santana wasn't entertaining any questions from the group. She was texting again instead.

"Is this like a nightclub or something?" Rachel's head was turning from side to side as if we were going to be in trouble for just being in this line.

"How does she expect us to get in? I wouldn't put having a fake ID past Santana but the rest of us are screwed." Mercedes was the next up to the question bat.

When we were nearing the front of the line Santana turned around to face us.

"Okay ladies, I know this is lame, but I'm invoking the buddy system here. We aren't in Lima anymore. I know, I'm not your mother, but please, do not stray from the group without at least one other person with you, and if you dare to leave your buddy unattended I will personally kick your ass. Keep a special eye on the Hobbit. We don't want her to _actually_ end up with one of the guys from To Catch A Predator."

"Did you hear that everyone? Santana Lopez _cares_ about me." The short brunette teased, and the group actually laughed in response.

_Rachel could be funny. Who knew. _

"Oh and…try to keep your lameness to yourselves for the next couple of minutes." Santana spun around to address us one more time before we reached the very large man standing by the door.

"IDs." The broad-shouldered doorman grunted.

"Tell your boss that Maribel Lopez's daughter is here, and see if you'll still be needing those IDs." Santana countered, and did not break eye contact with the man who towered over her.

_Does she really expect her head bitch act to work against a grown man at what appears to be an upscale club?_

The door man narrowed his eyes, before he turned away briefly to speak into his headset. Once he turned back, his demeanor had softened considerably.

"Welcome." He gestured us inside. "Drinks are on the house. Just don't call too much attention to yourselves." The man warned as we made our way past him.

_I should have never doubted her. _

The first thing that hit me upon entering the dark doorway was the temperature. It was at least 20 degrees hotter in this place than it was outside. That could very possibly be due to the high volume of writhing bodies ahead of us.

It was also loud. _Very very loud. _

"Dancing!" Brittany chirped beside me.

We all followed Santana up a flight of steep steps to our left, and almost all of us, except for Santana, reached for another girl's hand as we did so. We had all drank before. We had all been to parties before. But I was sure that none of us, save for Santana, had ever been in an environment like this previous to tonight.

She led us to a large booth on the upper level, and almost immediately we were greeted by a scantily clad cocktail waitress. The waitress leaned in to take each of our drink orders, spending a moment too long with Santana for my liking, before she sauntered away to the bar.

The way that the club was filling, I was positive that there wouldn't have been any open seats if we had arrived much later than we did.

I glanced around the table to note a pattern of wide eyes. I wondered if mine were as wide.

"How did you do that?" Tina yelled over the music in Santana's direction.

"I can't tell you. Just enjoy it." Santana response was easy to hear somehow, although she wasn't shouting like Tina was.

"Secret Agent." Mercedes asserted, nodding unconsciously to the beat.

I could guess how she was able to get us in. She name dropped her mother, and that meant that her mother was probably hired by the owner at some point. I didn't know too much about what Santana's mother did, but I did know that she made problems go away. Who knows what kind of mess this business was in, or what kind of personal mess the owner had been in, but obviously Mrs. Lopez had done her job well, if the owner was going to allow seven underage girls into the club with drinks on the house.

As soon as our first round arrived, Brittany was popping up in pursuit of the dance floor.

Four others rose as well to join the tall blonde; clearly no one was keen on missing this opportunity. I only moved to allow the others to exit the booth. I wasn't going anywhere until Santana was.

"Dance with me." I requested, after sliding next to her. From this distance, I didn't have to shout.

"I don't think that would be smart, Q." She responded, sipping her drink without making eye contact.

"And why is that?"

"After earlier, I'm afraid that you would try to shank me on the dance floor." If she was trying to make a joke, you wouldn't know it, because there wasn't a hint of a smile on her features.

I had the sneaking suspicion that the possibility of me shanking her wasn't the real reason that she didn't want to dance with me.

"Will you look at me?" I needed to apologize, and I would rather her not be scanning the crowd while I did so.

Santana didn't exactly jump to fulfill my request. Eventually, however, she did bring her eyes to mine. I tried to focus on what I had to say, rather than my body's reaction to the gorgeousness that was her face.

"I'm really sorry about earlier, San. I shouldn't have assumed the worst, and I shouldn't have said the things that I said."

I lost her eyes again. She was peering over the railing, I assume in search of our friends down on the dance floor.

"I can't be too mad, right? My villainous reputation is of my own accord, is it not? You of all people have every reason to assume the worst." She glanced over her shoulder at me with a sad smile.

_Heartbreaker. And not in the usual way. _

I knew that my words had hurt her earlier, but her body language and the brief glimpses of her eyes that I was able to get told a story of a much deeper wound than I expected to have made.

"Quite the opposite. I know that isn't who you are, Santana. I was just upset."

_I fell for the hero. Not the villain. _

"Leave it, Quinn." Her mouth formed a not-so-thin line. Thin wasn't really possible with those lips.

"No. It's not fair for you to shut down on me every time I make a mistake." _That made her look my way. Okay. Not for the right reason._

I meant it though. I felt like I was constantly at risk of losing her. It was an awful feeling.

"This really isn't the time to bring up eighth grade." I couldn't see her eyes as she spoke, but I was rather sure that they were darker than her normal shade of brown.

"I'm not talking about that, although it does apply. I'm talking about me kissing Sam." I was proud of myself for finally saying it. We obviously weren't getting anywhere by avoiding the topic.

"I don't care who you make out with, and if you wanted to have a real conversation about it, you shouldn't have brought it up in the middle of a club." She turned her head away from the dance floor, and I received visual confirmation that her eyes were in fact darkening.

_Fair point. _

I had obviously touched a nerve there. After seeing her eyes and hearing her tone, it was evident that she did care about me kissing Sam. That was a start, but I really needed to start hearing her real feelings rather than attempting to decipher them from her actions and body language.

"You don't exactly make it easy to talk to you sometimes." I took a page out of Santana's book and crossed my arms as I spoke.

"Because you're _real_ simple. Didn't you start this whole exchange with an apology, and since then, how many criticisms of me have you managed to slip in?" She tilted her head to the side, mimicking my body language as she crossed her arms.

_This is impossible. _

I sighed, and finished the second drink that the waitress had brought us sometime during our argument.

Wordlessly, Santana began sliding her way out of the booth.

_Is she really going to just leave me here? Cool. _

She was standing near my side of the booth before I could finish my internal Santana geared insults.

"Start the night over with me? Let's go dance." Santana surprised me, reaching for my hand.

I shook my head in frustration, but took the offered hand anyway. _By start over, clearly she means table any sort of meaningful discussion once again. But, whatever._

I knew she was right about this not being the appropriate place to hash things out, but I was so tired of _not_ talking.

While she led me by my hand, down the steps and onto the dance floor, I allowed myself to pretend that we were actually together, and that she was holding my hand because I was hers, and because she was mine.

I allowed myself to believe that there was a reason why my pale hand felt so right in her tan one. _That's how it is supposed to feel when you're with your person, right?_

It wasn't healthy, but it was nice to escape from reality for a couple of minutes.

She didn't spend long searching for our friends in the dancing crowd, before she gave up, and I was completely okay with that. I already had other people's sweat on me, and I had received more than one hungry look as we moved through the mass of people.

Santana twisted around to face me, my hand still in hers, as her phone lit up in her clutch. I gestured to it to grab her attention, figuring that it was probably from one of the girls.

Her phone illuminated her face as she followed my direction, and by the way her eyes lit up at what she was reading, I no longer believed that it was from one of the other Glee girls.

_It's probably from Sadie._ I instantly felt sick to my stomach.

I didn't know if she saw the way my face fell or what, but as soon as I dragged my eyes away from the floor she was holding her phone screen in front of me.

* * *

**Puck: Why is this hotel all meat and no taco? **

** Puck: I'm not kidding around here, Lopez. I came over to deliver a nightcap to all of the fineness in your room, and Kurt was the only one home. **

** Santana: Well, Kurt ****_is _****very pretty. **

** Puck: You of all people should understand why Kurt's pretty just doesn't cut it for me. Now spill, where are you? **

** Santana: We went out. I can only babysit a handful of people at a time. **

** Puck: I'm throwing away our friendship bracelets. **

** Santana: It's about time. Those are nasty. Cutting out two plastic holders from a six-pack was one of the worst ideas you've ever had. **

** Puck: False. My worst idea was thinking that you would understand such a meaningful gesture.**

* * *

I laughed my way through the entire read. My heart lifted now that I knew it was Puck and not Sadie that Santana had been texting on and off all night.

Once I was done reading, I guided her hand back to her purse with my hand, her hips already moving to the beat.

_Let's go back, I know it's been a minute  
But I can do it better than I did when I did it  
You were loving me, I was loving you  
You can come over and we can have deja vu  
We could have deja vu  
You could come over and_

The whole room seemed to pulsate around us as we stepped closer to one another. I tried not to overthink everything as I rested my hand on her right hip to follow her movements.

The beat vibrated through me, but this sort of dancing, it wasn't exactly my forte. Basically, I knew exactly where the beat was, but hell if I had any proper idea of what to do with it.

Santana seemed to read my nervous energy, and guided both of my hands to her neck trailing her fingertips down my arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake, before resting her own hands on my hips instead.

"You've got this. Trust me." She coaxed my hips with her hands, encouraging me on with her lips dangerously close to my ear.

_I'm probably gonna compliment your hair do  
Right before we mess that shit all up  
(Mess that shit all up)  
I used to keep you out way past your curfew  
Look at me now, I'm all grown up  
(Look at me now, I'm grown up)  
She was reminiscing in her mind  
I'm just trying to make up for lost time  
But we acting nervous  
Cause we've been here before_

Santana rolled her hips into mine, dipping them down for a few beats before gliding her way back up.

_Okay. I am starting to understand the appeal of this whole club thing._

It was difficult to keep my eyes open when Santana's chest was flush with mine and her hands were sliding up and down the thin material of my dress.

My half-lidded eyes flew open when I felt a not so welcome presence against my back. Santana shifted in front of me before I could reject the man who was attempting to make a Quinn sandwich.

At first the goateed man appeared very pleased with the change. Apparently he liked his women aggressive, and apparently he took Santana's movement of me as a sexual advance toward him.

_Oh god, Santana. Don't kill him. _

I pleaded to her silently. _God knows she could._

I placed my hand on the curve of her waist, as if that would somehow stop her from tearing him apart.

I couldn't hear what she said to him above the music but within seconds his hands were up in surrender and he was backpedaling into the other dancers, almost tripping over himself as he did so.

_Okay, that was kinda hot. _

_Sometimes words are more than enough. Especially when you are Santana Lopez. _

_Look at us now, we're all grown up_  
_(Yeah baby, look at us now, we're grown up)_  
_She was reminiscing in her mind_  
_I'm just trying to make up for lost time_  
_But we acting nervous_  
_Cause we've been here before_

She didn't turn to face me again. With my hand still on her waist, she stepped back and into me instead. I gasped when her ass made sweet contact with the front of my dress.

Now I really didn't know what to do. Guys didn't exactly dance like this in front of me on the regular. _Or ever._

Obviously noticing my hesitation, Santana spoke over her shoulder.

"Give me your other hand, Blondie. I won't bite."

_I'd probably like it if you did. _

I reached my other hand forward, not completely sure where she wanted it, and her confident hands were over both of mine before I knew what was happening.

She placed my hands firmly above her hips, and I couldn't help but revel in the feeling of her rhythmically talented body under my hands.

I was sure that I was a far cry from Brittany or Sadie, but I was definitely enjoying myself.

My alcohol couldn't have kicked in at a better time. I felt my body relax slightly, as Santana dropped down, leaning forward just a bit before pushing back into me.

_Nothing much has changed_  
_You still feel the same_  
_Don't pretend like you don't_  
_Want to like I do_  
_I know you think about_  
_What it would feel like now_  
_Come over, let's make a new memory_

She twisted around to face me again, and this time I returned my arms to her shoulders of my own accord. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, and how effortlessly sexy I found her to be. But, of course, I didn't say either of those things.

Feeling increasingly more comfortable due to Santana's reassurance, and her very capable guidance, I rocked my hips forward just as she did hers. The suggestive smile she gave me following the movement melted me completely.

Her hand slid purposefully to the small of my back, spreading warmth with every centimeter of contact. It enabled her to achieve a deeper and more intense roll of her body.

In that moment, Santana could have done anything she would have wanted to do to me and I would have been completely compliant.

I was one big bottle of mixed emotions when the song ended. On the one hand, I didn't think I could have withstood much more of our dancing without begging her to take me somewhere private. On the other hand, the need for her was such a pleasant ache and I was really enjoying dancing with her.

Santana didn't stop moving against me when the next track started. It wasn't until we were bumped by a couple next to us that she regretfully pulled away from me.

I watched her eyes. They didn't flash in anger, only in curiosity. She found my hand again and led me through the crowd.

She must have recognized that something was going on whereas I had no idea whatsoever. I was completely consumed by my gorgeous friend.

"So much for not drawing attention to ourselves." She growled in my ear half-heartedly as we reached the end of the crowd.

A circle had formed around Brittany's dancing form, and boy was she getting it. I wished I could dance like that, and then perhaps I could have captivated Santana like Santana had captivated me.

Brittany may have had the floor and Santana's attention, but I had Santana's hand in mine. Instead of breaking contact, I intertwined my fingers through hers. She didn't fight it. In fact, she squeezed my hand, and tilted her ear in my direction as I leaned in to respond to her.

"I'm not sure she can help it. You can't put a fish in water and expect it not to swim." I laughed softly, purposefully allowing my lips to graze her earlobe. I swear that I felt her hand shiver in mine.

"What's your water, Q?" She turned her head to ask in my ear.

_You. _

"A used bookstore maybe?" I shrugged. I was being bold tonight, but I wasn't being _that _bold. Maybe one day.

"Nah. Maybe you just haven't found it yet." She smiled at me one last time before the long-legged blonde noticed her dance teacher friend, and proceeded to drag the shorter girl into the dance circle with her.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

We made it back to the hotel without incident. Thankfully no one, not even Rachel, drank to the point of messiness. And by the way that they all couldn't stop yammering on about the night on our way back, I believed it was a success. I stayed silent for the most part, dodging questions about my mother, while I studied notecards full of lyrics that I had brought along with me.

Everyone was in that excited but really exhausted mode; I had one head on each of my shoulders before we had even passed three stops. Quinn on one side and Brittany on the other.

_Is this what my bed is going to be like tonight? _

I was sure that having Brittany and Quinn in my bed at the same time had been some sort of fantasy of mine at some point, but right then, it seemed more like a nightmare than a dream.

I didn't know how to properly keep Brittany at a distance when she was in my bed for one, and two, Quinn and I were in such a weird place that sleeping next to her seemed like I was just asking for trouble.

Lately, I couldn't seem to go an hour without switching between wanting to scream at Quinn and wanting to make her scream (in the best possible way).

She was under my skin deeper than she had ever been before and it was absolutely terrifying.

To be fair, I didn't ask for this sleeping arrangement.

By the time I had changed into my sleep shorts and tank, I no longer gave two shits about where I was sleeping. I just wanted sleep and I wanted it bad. I was the first one in bed, and probably the first one asleep.

* * *

Well, I _was_ asleep until the beautiful, but irritating star of my dreams proceeded to shake me awake. I faintly felt a weight being lifted off of my leg as the shaking continued.

I mumbled something incoherent, that I was pretty sure was neither English nor Spanish, before she shook me again.

"What?" I believed that was coherent.

"Shhh…" Quinn shushed me in the darkness.

_Shhh, really, shhh?! _

She thinks she's going to wake me up in the middle of the night and then _shhh _me?

"Will you please just get up and come with me?" Quinn whispered near my ear, and despite my half-asleep state, I fought a pleasurable shudder at her proximity.

I threw one foot over the edge of the bed, lazily followed by the other. She tossed a pair of sweatpants at me, which were not mine by the way, before I was even standing straight. My reflexes were not in top form, but I was still able to catch the mass of cotton that hit me in the chest with one hand.

I grumbled at her, watching her grab a door key from the nightstand, before I followed her into the hallway. She closed the door with a quiet click behind us.

"I gave those to you to wear, not to carry around." Quinn explained.

She was still wearing her makeup from the evening's festivities, and she had absolutely no sign of bedhead. Believe me I know what her bedhead looks like and it is adorable. No one should look that cute in the morning. _Or ever._

In return for the direction concerning the sweats, she received a lethargic eye roll. I did as I was told, however, and stepped into the pants anyway. I didn't know why my shorts were an issue.

My first question should have been "what are we doing?" as I followed her down the hallway, but it wasn't.

"Have you slept at all?" I posed the question to her back, as she walked ahead of me, scanning every hotel directional sign that we passed.

_Ew. I'm not wearing shoes. This carpet. Ew. _

"No." She answered, as my eyes finally began to adjust to the lights of the hallway.

This was unlike Quinn. For one, the mysterious bit was usually my thing and for another, she didn't usually take control like this. Despite my exhaustion, I was intrigued.

"Are you going to tell me where you're taking me?" I began rubbing my eyes. The hallway lights weren't super bright, but they were still harsher than I would have liked.

"No, because I'm not sure yet." Quinn seemed to answer honestly from ahead of me.

_Um, and I'm out of bed because? _

She pushed through one door, and I began to wonder if we were ever going to find our way back to our room.

It was hard to think clearly when I was so fucking tired, and when I had a perfect view of the feminine shoulder blades that I _oh so_ desperately wanted to run my tongue along.

It seemed like hours before she finally stopped.

"Here should work." She declared, and straddled the bench in front of her before bringing her legs onto it in the Indian-style fashion.

Without the energy to question her, I did the same. I made the mistake of glancing to my right, however, to see an empty pool area. There was glass separating the seating area we were in from the pool itself. There wasn't a soul in sight on either side of the glass.

"This is creepy. They should call this pervert point." My voice still was wracked with gravel of sleep.

_Not even a smile. Ugh, what is going on? _

She cleared her throat, and I raised my eyebrows in anticipation. I didn't think that I had ever seen her _this_ nervous.

"How do you feel about me?" Her eyes were on the green side of their color spectrum, and although her voice did not have its usual strength, her eye contact sure did.

_Fuck. _

_ How did I not see this coming? _

Quinn didn't even bother to beat around the bush. The bush was smashed to smithereens.

_My current game plan? Dance around the destroyed bush. _

"I feel…good about you? Is this about us arguing today? You don't have to worry about me disappearing on you whenever we have a disagreement. I'm not going anywhere, Q. I won't do that to you again no matter how difficult you are to get along with sometimes." I smiled at the last part hoping to inject some humor into what could be a very serious conversation.

I did want her to know that I wasn't going anywhere. Yes, some of the things she said today, or well, it would be yesterday now, upset me, but we would get over it.

"No it's not about that, but it's good to hear that you're not going anywhere." She sighed softly, averting her gaze to the pool area.

I desperately hoped that she had lost her courage. I wasn't ready for this.

"Good enough that I can go back to sleep now?" It was a long shot. She still wasn't returning my smile, and I wasn't left with much hope about where this was going.

"Nice try, but I want to have the conversation that we were supposed to have two weeks ago." Her eyes returned to mine, and I could detect a slight shake to her voice.

As her friend, I was proud of her. As the other party to this conversation, I wanted nothing more than to go back to my room.

"At this ungodly hour? Really? Besides Quinn, I thought we had circumvented the need for that conversation." I tried to keep my tone light, but by the look on her face, I was obviously unsuccessful.

After Prom, there was a time where all I wanted was to have this conversation. I was ready to brace myself for the consequences, and I at least partially trusted her with what I was showing her by asking her for said conversation.

But now, I had to fight just to convince myself that it was okay to be friends with Quinn rather than running away from her completely. Anything beyond that realm was more than I could handle.

"And how did we do that?" She bit down on her lower lip, bringing her hands to rest on her knees.

_I'm sorry, Quinn. _

"My apologies when I said "we" I was being polite. I meant you. You circumvented the need." I prayed that my internal flinch was just that, internal, and did not reflect on my features.

_Yes_, I was still angry with her to a particular degree, but she didn't deserve what I was doing and she certainly didn't deserve what was coming. I was better than I used to be, but I was far from perfect.

"Momentarily forgetting the fact that I'm the one who drug you out here to address such a conversation, how did I do that?" She was standing her ground. Well sitting, but you get my point.

I didn't know of anyone else who could give me a run for my verbal money like Quinn did. I had always loved and hated that about her. It both thrilled and aggravated me to no end.

"You macking on Trouty Mouth right in front of me was all the discussion I needed." _Harsh, but true_.

I had unconsciously numbed myself to the situation at that point, and any remaining walls that were left untouched by that incident I had forcibly raised once again anyway.

"If that's the case, I circumvented the need for you. Not for me. And that was a mistake, Santana. One that I desperately wish that I could take back. I drank too much and I let myself get freaked out about everything. I don't want Sam. I don't want to date him. I don't want to kiss him. He's a complete non-issue. What I _do_ want, is to have that conversation with you." She reached for my hand, but I rejected her for the second time that night, slipping my hands into my lap instead.

_Stop, Quinn. Please. I don't want to hurt you. _

"You did us both a favor, Q. Our friendship is dysfunctional enough without worrying about another layer of complication. I'm serious about making our friendship last this time, and I'm not going to jeopardize that for tipsy make out sessions." It was true.

We were already dysfunctional and I could no longer imagine attempting to master an even more complicated relationship than the one that we already had. I decisively met her eyes, attempting to impress on her how serious I was and how desperately I wanted to drop the current vein of conversation.

"Is that what they were to you? Is that what you wanted to say to me two weeks ago?" Quinn was clearly attempting to keep a level tone, but she was definitely getting upset.

_She was good. Always had been._ I was a bullshit artist, but she could see right through it.

"Yes." _Lie. Lie. Lie. _

I couldn't imagine that I was convincing. It was only one syllable but it came out thick and contrived. If those were just tipsy make out sessions, I wouldn't have needed to talk to her in the first place.

_I am a coward. Just like my mom said. _

"Bullshit, Santana. Even if we completely ignore the night that you gave me my Captain necklace, and the Monday after Prom, the "tipsy make out sessions" were not typical drunk girl kisses." _Wow. She just really called me out on all of that._

I was impressed, but I was also starting to panic. I was beginning to feel trapped, cornered, and I did not respond well to such feelings. _Not well at all._

"Speaking from a place of great experience are we?" I cocked one smug eyebrow in her direction.

_There's the condescending Santana that Quinn had come to know all too well the past three years. Welcome back._

"Are you really going to be an asshole about this?" _Call me out again, why don't you. Jesus. _Her eyes were shifting back to hazel. _Shit._

"Seems like it's going that way." _Oh yeah. Boosh. Take that. God, I suck_.

My old tricks weren't working. Quinn knew better now. She knew me better now. I wasn't this person.

"Fine. I can't make you have a mature and open conversation with me, but _I_ am going to say what I need to say." She was clearly annoyed, but she wasn't giving up by any means.

She was amazing. Once again, I hoped my face wasn't advertising my awe.

"And if I go back to the room during this part?" This was all that I really had left.

"If you walk away right now, I will never forgive you. I would love if you would be genuine with me, but at the very least you can listen to what I have to say." She was using her determined take no prisoners tone. Normally it would turn me all of the ways on, but right now I was too worried to feel more than frustration at her refusal to let this go.

I couldn't take her hating me forever. No matter how much I wanted to run and avoid this. There wasn't a single outcome of this conversation that I could think of that didn't horrify me at this point. It would devastate me to hear that she thought we should just be friends, or that she was using me for possible orgasms.

But the alternative, wanting something more was somehow worse. The only thing worse for me than being rejected by Quinn would be to reject her. But with the state of mind I was in, that was the only thing I was capable of doing. Quinn was new to all of this, and I couldn't risk my heart on a newbie. She had too much control over it already. Once the novelty wore off, she would be back to her meatheads, and I would probably never recover.

"Okay." I tried to sound nonchalant, although I was screaming everything but "okay" on the inside.

_What else could I do?_

"I think that our friendship is dysfunctional,_ because_ that extra "layer of complication" as you call it is there whether we like it or not. I get so irritated with you because I'm so tired of ignoring it. I don't know what all of this means, and your refusal to talk about things, makes that so much worse. I wish you would just tell me if I was just another mouth to kiss, if that is the case, because then I would at least know where I stand with you." Her eyes did not leave mine as she spoke and her hands were squeezing her knees tightly. I was sure that if she wasn't gripping her legs so hard, her hands would be waving freely in the air.

I didn't quite understand what she was attempting to explain.

_Was this extra layer she spoke of mutual attraction? Had she been fighting her attraction for me as I had been fighting mine for her? Can't be. There was no way that she felt like this._

"You're Quinn. It was never like that for me. It never could be." I was pretty sure that I had looked at her like she was crazy.

_How could she ever begin to think that she was just another girl to make out with? Surely she can't be that dense._

_Shit. Honesty slip. In my distracted state, I had left my guard down. _

"What the hell does that even mean, Santana?" Her hands left her knees at that point. It was as if that tiny glimpse of honesty left her more frustrated than she would have been had she experienced no truth from me at all.

"It means that, unlike you, I wasn't using you for some sexuality experiment." _Harsh again_, but I was still being honest. I couldn't bear to be her experiment.

"Why would you even think that?" Her eyebrows arched together, and I could see that she wanted to touch me once again. The expression I gave her advised against any touching.

"The first night you kissed me you told me that you did so because you believed I would be a reliable train to ride to orgasm town, did you not?"

"You're so crude. And yes, sorta, but that was months ago, Santana, and things have changed for me since then. I'm not even convinced that that was the real reason why I kissed you in the first place." She looked so confused, and tired.

I was positive that it wasn't easy opening up to me like she was when I was giving nothing in return. To be fair, I had told her to stop.

I was stunned by the possible realization that our first kiss wasn't about her search for orgasms. I couldn't stop myself from asking for more.

"What was the real reason then?" I was irritated with myself as soon as the words escaped my lips.

"I don't know. All of this, it's been a lot to process." Quinn shrugged, her eyes searching mine for some sort of answer or reason for my behavior.

_Well wasn't that a vague answer. As if I was any better. _

"Tell me about it." _No, but really don't. It's just an expression. _

This was and had been far too much to process.

"And no, as you so kindly pointed out earlier, I don't have much experience kissing girls. In fact, you are the only experience that I have, but that doesn't somehow make my feelings less legitimate." Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she averted her eyes once again to the pool.

I hadn't known that. It wasn't something that I had spent much time contemplating to be honest. Except for the lip bruise from Brittany, that had made me wonder briefly.

Many girls at our school made out with other girls to get the attention from guys, but I supposed Quinn never needed to seek that attention. She could have any guy that she wanted, and she didn't have to put on a show in order to do so.

_God_, it was so hot that I was her first and only. I was honored but at the same time it drove home how very differently situated we were in this relationship.

"It doesn't?" _I'm an asshole, I know._

"You're really adding a lot to this conversation, Santana, thank you." She snarked, and I wondered if I was finally pushing her to the edge of abandoning any future attempts to further this conversation.

"I do what I can. Can I go now?" I was acting like a petulant child, and I was well aware of that. I couldn't play Quinn like I could play everyone else, however. This unfortunately was the best I could do with her.

"No. I know that "feelings" is a dirty word to you, and it's pretty much the only dirty word that you don't like, but I'm not done. You see, I don't do this. It may have been a very big deal to you that you asked me to talk about things, and maybe that's part of the reason why you took a ride on the Sadie Slut Express that night, but—"

"Whoa, and you know that I had sex with Sadie how exactly?" I interrupted, completely flabbergasted.

Quinn looked completely disgusted. It was either directed at me or Sadie or both. I wasn't sure, but it made my stomach twist in a very unfortunate way. It hurt for Quinn to look at me with such revulsion.

I didn't know anyone knew about that, well, except for Sadie obviously. I hadn't told anyone what happened between us on Prom night.

"What did you expect? Besides the noises that half the house heard, apparently, there's also this little thing called discretion that the bitch just doesn't have. But that's really not the point that I was trying to make." _Holy, judgment Quinn, geez._

I wasn't aware of the ins and outs of Sadie's sexual experience but I would bet good money that my history was no less promiscuous than hers.

Additionally, that shits embarrassing. I hadn't been the one screaming, so I knew that it wasn't my voice that was heard, but still. I had no desire for anyone to hear my escapades.

"I was trying to say that I'm never on this side of the chase. I don't usually have to move another girl's leg off of the person I like, just so I can force said person to come talk to me about how they feel in the middle of the night. People come to me. This is out of my comfort zone and it is nowhere near my area of expertise. And the way you're acting right now, not only is it disrespectful and incredibly rude, but it's also making it very difficult for me to like you." Quinn was doing a great job of not showing complete vulnerability. There was enough anger in her tone directed at me to avoid seeming completely exposed.

_So that's the weight I felt lifted when she woke me up. Brittany must have had her leg draped over me._

I had fallen asleep so fast that I had no idea what side of the bed I was on or who was going to be sleeping beside me.

_Person that she likes? God, that sounded so elementary school. What does that even mean?_

We gave each other Valentine's cards in grade school with more commitment than "like" in them. I didn't know why I was bothered by the particular use of that word but I was. It felt so childish.

Not that I was one to talk. I wasn't exactly acting as the exceptional specimen of maturity.

"This conversation is for _you_. I already told you that I didn't need to have it." I responded stubbornly.

She was really getting to me. I was worn by now, but not quite ready to give up my seemingly futile attempts at finishing the discussion.

"I'm happy for you. It must be nice to be able to just put someone in the proper box that you have marked just for them, after one fucking mistake. Not that you give a shit, but here's what I wanted from this conversation: I wanted, at the very least, to have the chance to explore what this is, and to see what it could be. Good news for you though, after you just spent the past ten minutes spitting in my face, having only a friendship with you sounds just _marvelous_. Will you do me a favor though? A favor that you definitely owe me at this point, by the way. As soon as we get back to Ohio, leave me alone for a few days." She was pissed.

Her eyes were a dark hazel, and she had uncrossed her legs, slamming her heels into the floor. Her look of repulsion was back in full force, and I felt like a piece of gum that she just couldn't wait to scrape off of her shoe.

_Explore what this is?_ I was so curious to know what she meant, but I couldn't bring myself to ask, not when it seemed like the conversation was finally coming to a close.

"Okay." _The one word wonder was still flying. Awesome._

"Great. I really hope that this wasn't a shining example of what kind of a friend you're going to be to me moving forward. Because if it is, I really don't need or want you in my life at all. The real pathetic part of this is that if you had told me about how you felt in the eighth grade, I guarantee I would have handled it better at 13 than you just did at 17. Goodnight, Santana." As Quinn berated me, I felt as though I was back in the storage room, moments away from watching her pound on the door in attempt to get away from me. But I wasn't. For all of the progress I had supposedly made, here I was, making the woman who I cared most about in the entire world feel like complete and utter shit. She deserved better.

Quinn finally broke her blazing eye contact with me and spun angrily off of the bench, pushing her way loudly out of the door that we had entered in.

Instead of following her immediately, I laid down on the bench, squeezing my eyes shut in a poor attempt to erase what I had just done.

As much as it hurt, I was sure that it would be better for her in the end.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter XXVI**

**A/N: ****A special shout out to user boringsiot: Every time you review I attempt to PM you to tell you how great you are, and each time I forget that you don't allow PMs. So I will say it here. Thank you so much for your consistent reviews of my chapters. People like you are the ones keep me trucking along with this story.**

**Oh and hey Grilled Cheesus, it's great to have you back. **

**Once again, thank you to every single one of you as well. I'm really loving all of the feedback. And without further adieu here is your chapter 26...**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Allow me to tell you about my summer before my senior year.

Objectively, it should have been one of the best summers of my life. My future was looking brighter than ever. I had received almost perfect grades, which brought me closer to my goal of attending Yale. My father gave me my first professional grade camera, and it was as though I had found a whole new perspective to explore the world from.

I was invited to every party. I was never without something to do. I was far from at a loss for friends, and if I didn't want to be social, I had my camera, or my canvass at home.

Gradually I was receiving more requests at work for private lessons.

And, of course, I was living the dream that I had ever since I was a first grader that was pulled onto the high school football field by the cheerleaders during half-time; I was Captain of the Cheerios. I was Head Bitch, Queen Bee, whatever you want to call it, I was it. Summer training was tougher than ever, but there was nothing better than leading the best squad in the country.

I should have been more grateful. There was many a person who would have killed to switch places with me at the top of the pyramid and at the top of the social ladder.

But, instead of spending the summer floating on a fluffy cloud of happiness, I spent the summer desperately trying to get over a girl who I had never even been under.

Well, at least not in the way that I had wanted to be under her anyway.

Things were never the same between us after I had forced her out of bed to talk about us while we were in NYC.

The "conversation" couldn't have gone worse.

Since then, I only spoke to Santana when it was absolutely essential for me to do so. Ever since our trip to Nationals, we were only civil to each other. We didn't argue, we didn't flirt, and we didn't talk about anything except for work or cheerleading.

Brittany noticed the change in our dynamic right away, and she made a few efforts throughout the summer to try to bring us closer together again. For example, in mid-June she invited us both over for a slumber party at her house, but as soon as we found out that the other was going, we both cancelled.

One day after cheer camp Brittany told me how excited she had been that Santana and I had been getting along so well, and that she had been looking forward to spending the summer together as the Unholy Trinity should. It really made my heart hurt to have disappointed the blue eyed girl, but I just couldn't make myself patch things up with Santana.

I doubted that Brittany would have been so adamant about fixing Santana and I if she had known what had caused our falling out in the first place.

Our distance was a strain on our other friendships as well. It was strange how we had spent three years at each other's throats and I had never really noticed how that had impacted the people around us. Now, looking back, I couldn't imagine how many casualties there had been. I never cared enough to concern myself with how a war between the two arguably most powerful and popular girls in school would harm the village people caught in the in between.

This wasn't war anymore; in fact, we were nothing save for cordial acquaintances. I hadn't expected for that to be difficult on our friends. But, I was absent at more than one get together over the summer because I knew that the source of my misery would be in attendance. When I did show up to a gathering, often times Santana would be the one absent or she would leave shortly after my arrival. We were like two influential ships passing in the night.

Mercedes and I became even closer that summer. I still didn't open up to her, or anyone else for that matter, about Santana, but she was great about making me smile without any sort of admission of sadness on my part. Sure, she asked a bunch of questions, but she would drop a topic if I told her that I was serious about her doing so.

Most of us Glee kids were closer than ever, although Nationals did cause a bit of a chasm between many of us for a short time, but I'll get to that later.

It would have been nice to have someone to talk to about how I was feeling. It was _my_ fault that I had no one to speak to about it, and I knew that. But I couldn't risk being labeled something and have it get back to my family. Especially when whatever had been going on between Santana and I was clearly over.

I had never felt like this before. The only thing close to the heartbreak that I was experiencing was what I had felt when Santana disappeared on me in eighth grade.

That was devastating, but this was somehow worse. I didn't just lose my best friend. I lost everything that I never knew that I wanted.

It was stupid. We hadn't even dated and yet I was acting like someone going through a break up.

I missed her kiss. I missed her touch. I missed her tropical fruit scent. I missed the particular smile that I never saw her give to anyone but me. I missed how safe she made me feel. I missed how she was constantly teaching and showing me new things. I missed being the ear that she would lean into when she had a snarky comment about someone else in the room.

I missed how she would randomly take my hand to lead me somewhere. I missed her special brand Lopez hugs. I missed being one of the few people who had a degree of insight into the mystery that was her. I missed being the cause of her laugh. I missed receiving her hilarious and often insightful text commentary. I missed what an impenetrable force we had been. I missed debating homework answers with her as we lounged around on her bedroom floor.

I missed her flirtatious and sometimes borderline crude comments. I missed the way that she would breathe beside me as she slept. I missed our playful banter. I missed the escape that she and her house offered me from my parents. I missed how one glance from her from across a crowded room could make me feel like we were the only ones there.

I missed her. Every day. And yet, I couldn't tolerate being around her.

When I told Santana that I needed space, I hadn't expected that space to last the whole summer.

But, she never called. She never made an effort to approach me or to apologize for the way that she had acted. Maybe she had been waiting for me to tell her that I was ready to be friends again or maybe not. I didn't know what she was waiting for because I never asked.

After the first month of summer, I stopped expecting anything from her at all.

I had felt like we had been on the precipice of something incredible, but now we were nothing but co-captains, and co-workers.

It was probably better this way. I knew now that I couldn't compartmentalize my feelings for Santana. We were never meant to be just friends. Not with the way that I felt.

Even though we weren't fighting all the time, and we weren't making out every week/every other week, being in her vicinity was still very challenging most of the time.

Let's just say that summer looks _very_ good on Santana Lopez.

Her caramel skin seemed to grow tanner with our every encounter. Cheer camp all summer was absolute torture. It was eight hour days filled with Armour Sports bra wearing, abs glistening with sweat, displaying a ridiculous amount of flawless skin Santana. _All fucking summer. _

Even if she wasn't such a mouthwatering specimen, she would still be hot. There was just no way that I could watch her in leader mode, and also observe her constantly demonstrating such a ridiculous degree of athletic prowess without being attracted to her.

I dreaded the days that we had to take the girls to the foam pit. It was a constant battle with myself. I rotated between avoiding her eyes completely and all out searching for hers. I was a mess, but the last thing that I wanted was for her to see that. Just being in that stupid gymnasium gave me butterflies.

Worse than cheer camp days in the new gymnasium, were group social outings. That's why I did what I could to avoid the big group get togethers. At cheer practice I only had to deal with Santana, but for non-school related activities I had to often deal with Santana _and _Sadie.

After various pleading phone calls from Mercedes, Kurt, and even Puckerman, I had reluctantly agreed to go with them to the beach one weekend. It was miserable.

The sun was lovely, and the water was wonderful, but the view…it left much to be desired. Of course, I'm not talking about the view of Santana's perfectly ripped body in a bikini, or adorable face she would make when she would laugh, or the super pleased with herself look that she would get after she would spike the volleyball into the ground during beach volleyball.

I'm talking about having to watch Sadie and Santana play around with each other in the water. It was physically painful to be around them while they were applying sun tan lotion to one another. I silently wished that someone had swapped the lotion with something ineffective just so the ginger would get a nasty burn.

Thank god that I had only agreed to go on the condition that I drive myself. I forced myself to stay a couple of hours before peeling out of there and speeding far far away.

At parties they were often on each other's laps. At work it was non-stop flirting, and they often came to work together which drove me mad. After all, there was _no_ need for them to carpool, because Sadie lived in another town completely. I hated myself for coming to that realization, because it was after that realization that I started to notice the occasional presence of Sadie's car in Santana's driveway.

It made a girl want to move.

It seemed insane to me how badly it hurt. That sort of agony should only be reserved for the real sort of loss. If it could get worse than this, I was honestly grateful that I didn't get in any deeper with Santana before we fell apart.

According to Mercedes, Santana and Sadie were actually dating and not just fucking. It wasn't a piece of gossip that I had ever wanted to know, but she raised the subject as if it were just another random fact on her blabbermouth blog. There was no way that she could have known that I had almost had to excuse myself to go get sick in the bathroom.

Santana didn't put her personal life on blast by any means, but I was pretty sure that she had never dated anyone besides Puck, and even that was pretty much a joke.

Why was Sadie different? What made her so special to get the ever elusive prize of Santana's commitment? If they were in fact exclusive, that is.

It made me sick that Santana couldn't even commit to an honest fucking conversation with me but she could commit to a relationship with that redheaded slut.

Santana and I weren't anything to each other anymore and yet I was still killing myself in attempt to figure her out. I couldn't stand it.

The whole situation did give me a whole new dynamic to my art at least. I began creating things that I never knew that I could, and now I had plenty of extra free time to do so. Without going out of my way to spend every free moment with Santana, and with avoiding most social situations in general, I threw myself into my art. Since I had no one to talk to, it was my only effective means of therapy.

A perfect example of this, was that it was currently a beautiful Saturday afternoon, my last weekend before school was to start up again, and instead of venturing out with my friends, I was seated at the easel in my room. I wouldn't have had it any other way. Even better, both of my parents were going to be out at some stupid networking BBQ all night and I would have the house to myself for a few hours.

**This is the third text I have sent you, woman. I won't even try to convince you to come to Puck's tonight, but please come to a movie with Tina and I before the party. **

Mercedes "Bust Your Windows" text tone sounded for the third time in the past half an hour. I set my palette down with a sigh, fighting the guilt caused by my recent dodging of many of my friends.

**I'm not really in the mood 'Cedes. I'm sorry. **

It was the first text I had sent back to her three. She would be right to assume that attempting to get me to go to Puck's would be a complete waste of effort. The only place Santana would be more likely to be than at a Puck party would be at her own. Even then, the chances were pretty much even.

Puck was one person that I had rarely seen all summer. It was a necessary casualty of my separation from Santana. The two of them were practically family. The prince and princess of mayhem. I kinda missed him, but not enough to deal with the Sadie and Santana show.

**You know I love you girl, but you've been acting real off ever since Nationals. I know losing is a new feeling for you, but it's been three months. I miss you. We all do. **

_Oh wow, she must think I'm really ridiculous if she believes my recent behavior is because of our Nationals loss._

* * *

_It's hard to breathe, and I barely have any solo lines. I can't imagine how nervous the more major players must be. _

_ This is so much different than Cheerios Nationals. I had been preparing for that particular arena since I was 8-years-old. This, well, this I had fallen into because of Finn last year. It's the best thing he ever did for me, actually. _

_ It doesn't help that I barely slept. Mercedes and Kurt had claimed a two person sleeping arrangement, but Kurt was in too deep of a sleep to protest when I pushed my way in beside him. There was no way that I was going to sleep in a bed with Santana after how she had treated me. It was bad enough to have to be in the same room as her. _

_ I am furious with her, and even that is probably an understatement. But the weight on my chest, and the burning ache in my stomach isn't just fury. It is a sort of agony that I can't push away no matter how much I try to focus on my anger rather than my pain. _

_I had thought that Santana was different. But, the Santana that I experienced this morning was the same girl who tried to ruin my life for three years. She was heartless, and a coward, and yet, she was still capable of breaking my heart. _

_ But this is competition time. I may not be the most talented singer in the bunch, but I know how to get myself into competition mode. This is bigger than Santana and I. This is my family and they deserve me at my best for this. _

_After all they had done for me, this, this I can do for them. And I will. _

_ The music for our new opening number begins, and Sugar takes one of my hands as Tina takes the other. For now, we wait. _

_ Santana exaggerates the natural sultry sway of her hips as she enters from the other end of the stage, stepping into the spotlight. The sound that she releases from those luscious lips causes my thighs to tremble. _

**_Ooh, baby don't you know I suffer?  
Oh, baby can you hear me moan?  
You caught me under false pretenses  
How long before you let me go?_**

_ Can you say moan during a high school show choir competition? I guess we had seen much worse. _

_ This is far better than our original song choice. No matter how I feel about Santana, I can't deny how brilliantly smooth and erotic her voice sounds for this. _

_Tina releases my hand to enter the stage with a few other members while Santana flattens her hands on her thighs, crouching down slightly as our club floods onto the stage in front of her. _

_That's my cue. _

**_Ooh, you set my soul alight  
Ooh, you set my soul alight_**

_We form a human wall in front of Santana, and the sound of her incredibly sexy voice behind me sends the tiny hairs on my neck on end. _

_Here it comes. _

**_This one is for the boys with the boomin' system  
Top down, AC with the coolin' system  
When he come up in the club, he be blazin' up  
Got stacks on deck like he savin' up  
And he I'll, he real, he might gotta deal  
He pop bottles and he got the right kind of bill  
He cool, he dope, he drinks a lot of coke  
He always in the air, but he never fly coach  
He is up on a trip, trip, captin of the ship, ship  
When he make it drip, drip kiss him on the lip  
That's the kind of dude I was lookin' for  
And yes you'll get slapped if you're lookin' yo'_**

_ Santana busts through our human wall, and we all fall forward in synchronization as she leaps over and past us. She doesn't miss a beat, although I certainly didn't expect her to. Through my cloud of concentration, I can hear many in the crowd scream in unison. _

**_Glaciers melting in the dead of night  
And the superstars sucked into the supermassive  
(Ooh, you set my soul alight)  
Glaciers melting in the dead of night  
And the superstars sucked into the supermassive  
(Ooh, you set my soul)_**

_ Mercedes' voice initiates the layering of the two songs, and I raise my voice to join with hers as I dance walk to my part of the bleachers. _

**_Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away  
Beating like a drum and it's coming your way  
Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby super bass  
Boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby super bass_**

_ Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Mike and Brittany flipping over each other at the front of the stage. If I didn't know them, I would be worried about their safety, but knowing them, I have complete faith in their accuracy. _

**_I thought I was a fool for no one  
Oh baby I'm a fool for you  
You're the queen of the superficial  
And how long before you tell the truth_**

_ Santana's singing penetrates the other layers of the mashup as Mike lifts her to rest one leg on his shoulder, spinning them both around. _

**_This one is for the boys in the polos  
Entrepreneur jiggas in the moguls  
He could ball with the crew, he could solo  
But I think I like him better when he dolo  
And I think I like him better with the fitted cap on  
He ain't even gotta try to put the mac on  
He just gotta give me that look, when he give me that look  
Then the parties going off, off, uh_**

_ As the Santana performs her second rap verse, I'm able to get a proper chance to look out into the crowd. People are definitely on their feet. Despite her original discomfort with rapping for Nationals, her rhythm and enunciation are just flawless. She's unbelievable. I am sure that Rachel is eating her words of protest against the rapping idea right now. At least she is if she has any sense at all. _

**_Supermassive black hole  
Supermassive black hole  
Supermassive black hole  
Supermassive black hole_**

_ This part is all mine, and I do my best to project the throaty sing whisper that Mr. Schue had wanted me to do. Mercedes had reassured me over and over again during run throughs that I sounded good. Well, "hot" was the way that she put it, and Puck and Artie had both chimed in to agree. Even with all of the encouragement, it still sounds downright awkward to me. _

**_Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away  
Beating like a drum and it's coming your way  
Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby super bass  
Boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby super bass_**

_Mike and Brittany pop and lock around Santana and the others who are singing the chorus. We all place our fists over our hearts, and we do our best to pop our chests out to the beat. Only a few of us are convincing, and I am not one of them, but the crowd certainly does not seem to mind, as they are roaring loudly well after the song ends._

* * *

Looking back, we should have won. Not to be cocky, but we were amazing. From our opening mash-up of Muse's Supermassive Black Hole and Karmin's version of Nicki Minaj's Super Bass, to our moving performance of Cold Shoulder. We, by far, had the most heart on that stage.

I had almost ruined my stage makeup during Cold Shoulder. Santana had always performed well in practice, but her part of the song during our Nationals performance was just so raw. It was still so eerie to hear Santana sing part of the song that I had long ago associated with her.

Our chances at the National title came crashing down when Rachel and Finn reprised their Faithfully performance from Regionals last year. Only this time, instead of using the song as foreplay for their future relationship, they used it as their own personal makeup sex. Well, their version of makeup sex, anyway. They eye fucked each other the entire song before Finn smashed his awkward lips against Rachel's once the song ended.

It was because of that kiss, our scorecards basically said, that we ranked eighth instead of first.

On the way back to the hotel after finding out our ranking, the vast majority of us were silent. Santana's silence was of the dangerous variety however, but only Puck, Brittany and I seemed to notice it. We exchanged nervous glances the entire ride back, and I watched as Puck leaned over to both Sam and Mike to tell them something as we entered the elevator. I assumed that he had been warning them.

My suspicions were confirmed after we all returned to the hotel room. Santana had seated herself on the arm of the pull out couch. Her arms were crossed and her eyes were practically black. The three tall men had moved to stand behind her as soon as she had sat down.

We were all devastated, and we were all absolutely pissed at the mismatched couple, because we knew that we should have won. All of that work, for them to screw us over at the last minute. I was already a National Champion, but that was the only chance that many of them would have to be one. Unless we miraculously would make it there again the next year.

Santana's trigger was when Finn had started criticizing the judges for docking us for "the Superman of all kisses". Santana had absolutely lost it. Thankfully, Sam, Puck, and Mike had all grabbed Santana as soon as she had lurched from her seat and in Finn's direction.

I had no idea what she said during her struggle against the six arms holding her, because it was shouted in some very heated Spanish. I had been pretty positive that profanity was involved however.

A petrified Finn had covered his crotch with his hands as if that would somehow save him from our very skilled friend.

Rachel didn't even raise her head while Santana was screaming. She was too busy crying into her hands.

Santana had eventually begun to wrench herself free of those hands. I had known that she wasn't attempting to hurt any of her friends that were holding her, but she was irate.

It was then that I had stepped in the middle of Santana's path to Finn. No one else was jumping into action, and I had feared that Santana was going to free herself from the guys at any second.

I had forced eye contact with her, said her name, and looking into those black pools was much like what I would imagine staring into a wild animal's eyes would be like. But the Spanish had finally stopped, and I ordered Santana to take a walk.

Puck had released her with a nod from me, and I remembered shaking as Santana eventually left the room with one last burning glare in Finn's direction. I was never afraid that Santana would hurt me, but I had been seriously concerned that she was going to kill Finn. I didn't have love for the guy, but he was still a friend, and I didn't want Santana to do something that I knew she would regret later.

I distinctly recall that upon Santana's exit, the entire room had seemed to let out a breath that we had all been holding.

* * *

**You know I love you girl, but you've been acting real off ever since Nationals. I know losing is a new feeling for you, but it's been three months. I miss you. We all do. **

I reread Mercedes' text four times before I resolved myself to agree to go to the movie. I had already lost Santana. I couldn't afford to risk losing more friends. Not that I didn't have many to spare, but genuine friends like Mercedes were exceedingly rare when you're the head cheerleader.

After her texting her back that I would go to the movie, I slowly began cleaning my painting area, hoping that I wouldn't be stuck watching the latest cheesy chick flick.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

"You're late." I yelled at my best friend, rolling my shoulders back, as he jumped out of his jeep to cross my lawn to meet me.

"Hey, since you stopped helping me procure my party booze, it takes me longer to get the goods." He smirked at me, but I knew that he was being somewhat serious.

Puck had decided to host our last bash before school started up again, but only after I had refused to act as the hostess. I was definitely still going to be there though.

"I told you, I have to cool it for a while in the illegal activities department. My mom wasn't too keen on me using her to get the girls into the club in NYC. She promised to make life difficult for me if she catches me stepping out of line again." I defended myself for the thousandth time, spreading my legs before leaning forward to place my palms flat on the ground beneath me.

I loved stretching after a long week of cheer camp. It was always a delicious sort of pain.

"Yeah yeah…just let me know when you're off probation. You always manage to get better shit than I do." Puck grumbled, turning his head to the side.

"Stop ogling." I chided, floating my arms over to my left foot.

I wasn't even looking at him, but I could feel his eyes on me. It really didn't bother me that much, but I enjoyed giving him a hard time. After years of friendship, I was used to his harmless roaming eyes.

"I bet if I had those shorts on, you would look too." He argued.

"Only out of gross fascination, I'm sure. You really should stretch, by the way. Especially after all of that whining you did last time when you pulled something."

Running together had become a Saturday afternoon tradition for us this summer. Puck wanted to keep in great shape for football and the ladies, and I really just appreciated the company.

"Sure, mom. I'll get right on that." Puck teased, and I could hear him playing with the keys in his hand instead of following my direction.

I rolled my eyes at him. I hated when he pointed out my maternal instincts. I continually tried to cover any sign of them with insults, but I guess I _was_ caring less about hiding them than I used to.

"In defense of my ogling, you have majorly decreased the availability of eye candy around here." The mohawked man whined, as I squatted down to stretch my hips with the outside of my arms.

"Oh please, without me, you wouldn't have half of the girls attending your party that you do." I countered, sighing into my stretch.

"But Sadie counted for like at least a dozen of those girls." He exaggerated.

"Then you date her! We've gone over this. She prefers my team, but she's not entirely opposed to yours." I stood, swinging my right arm behind me in a circle.

It had been roughly two weeks since I had broken things off with Sadie. We were together officially for about two months. When her assertive-self had asked to be exclusive with me, I couldn't think of a good reason why we shouldn't be. I wasn't having sex with anyone else at the time, and I liked being around her.

I had never been in a real relationship before and I was far from an expert on how one acts in a relationship. I didn't know how often I was supposed to text or call her or how long was too long to go without replying to one of her texts. It felt kinda like work at times, and I was not a fan.

Things stopped being fun with Sadie. In all likeliness, that was _my_ fault and not hers. The girlfriend label didn't change her behavior, it changed mine. I was the one who acted like a weirdo.

It wasn't even that I wanted to be able to mess around with other girls. Sadie did a great job of keeping up with my sex drive, and I really didn't have time to see other women.

It was the sour taste in my mouth that I would get when she would introduce me as her girlfriend, or when she would playfully call me "hers" in a text. I had a constant sinking feeling in my gut that not only did I not belong _to_ her, but that I really didn't belong _with_ her either.

I had hoped that it would get better. I had thought that perhaps I just needed to get used to it. Maybe these feelings were normal after 17 years of being constructively single.

As time passed, I realized that it wasn't getting better. I didn't know if it was how I felt about her, or if it was just because I was just fucked up in general, but the relationship experiment was not working for me.

Sadie was far from stupid. She knew that we weren't on the same page, and offered me an out on three different occasions before I finally broke up with her. When I did break it off, she was upset sure, but she clearly had expected it. She told me as much.

I really wished that I could find a way to _not_ go around hurting people all of the time. In this realm at least, I resolved to never enter into another relationship without being completely sure of it.

"Well that sounds like a treat. I prefer my women enthusiastic not 'unopposed'." Puck interrupted my dark train of thought.

"I'm turning you into such a feminist, and I love it." I grinned at him, reaching behind me, bringing my foot to my hand to stretch my right calf.

"Whoa now, I've always loved the ladies." _The Puck definition of feminism. There you have it._

"I'm well aware, and just so you know, I didn't banish Sadie from our friend group or anything. I told her that she's more than welcome to continue to hang out with everyone. I know that many of you jokers took a liking to her." I reached back for my other foot as I explained.

I wanted to continue to be friends with Sadie, and I hoped to do just that as soon as she was ready. She had given me a head's up that it might be a while before she was able to move back into the friend zone, and I was okay with that. Hopefully, she didn't push my friends away because she needed space from me. Not that I could really blame her if she did.

It frustrated me that I wasn't able to make things work with her. She was really great, and far more understanding of my shit than I had ever expected her to be.

"Say what? And she hasn't taken you up on the offer?" He was clearly being sarcastic, feigning an attempt at arm circles. "You mean she _doesn't_ want to come hang around her super hot ex-girlfriend, and all of the girls that will be trying to get into your newly single pants?"

"Watch it, I'm also _your_ super hot ex-girlfriend." I reminded him with a wink.

"Somehow, I don't think that what we had was the same thing." He flashed me a knowing smile. He was certainly right about that.

That made me laugh really hard.

"Are you ready to get your ass kicked on this run?" I challenged after I was done laughing, rolling my neck from side to side as I began walking toward the end of the drive.

Accepting my challenge Puck broke into a jog right away, but my stomach proceeded to fall when he turned right at the end of the drive rather than left.

"Puck, let's go this way." I gestured left with my head even though he couldn't see it, calling after him as I hit the street.

He turned around without argument, but when he reached me, he stopped right in front of me.

"Why? Because Quinn lives down that way?" Hazel eyes tested mine. They were a different sort of hazel than Quinn's but they still reminded me of her. Not that it was difficult to remind me of the blonde.

"No, of course not. I just like to go left." _Lie._

That was the exact reason why I had us turn left every time. I had been doing a dance to avoid Quinn all summer.

"Riiight. Just like you _like_ to find an excuse to leave every time Quinn comes around." He lifted his eyebrows as he looked down at me.

_What the fuck, Puck? _

A big reason why I loved our friendship so much was because he didn't attempt to talk to me about feelings. He was there for me when I needed him, but he never pushed me to talk about _why_ he was needed.

And here I had thought that we both preferred it that way.

"Puck, don't do this. This isn't how our relationship works. We don't talk about this stuff, and I'd like to keep it that way." I crossed my arms over my chest to punctuate my discontent.

"Well, screw you, Santana. If you haven't noticed, you're my best friend, and you have gotten me through some pretty tough shit. We both do the badass thing, so I get what this is, more than anyone, but I've given you a six month pass on talking about this. And, I think that's plenty." He was going to be stubborn. I could tell already. There was no real malice in his "screw you" but he was noticeably irritated with me.

Puck had never met his father, as I wished I had never met mine. His father sent semi-regular child support checks, and his mother worked nights to make up the difference. They had a pretty nice house, and Puck was not often left wanting, but the whole absent father thing certainly didn't leave him without any issues. He had them in abundance.

I sighed, tugging my hair tie out of my ponytail so I could run my hand through my mane.

"I didn't mean it like that. You know I love you. But, six month pass, what the fuck are you talking about?"

Puck placed one hand on the hood of his jeep, scratching his strip of hair with his other hand.

"You're my lezbro and everything, but you've been driving me nuts. I'm sick of watching you fuck yourself over." My eyes narrowed more at the nickname than the rest of what he had to say.

I hated it when he called me his lezbro. I also hated it when he would occasionally call me dude. He had been getting better about both lately, thank goodness. My thoughts on the matter were that loving women didn't make me any less feminine than the women who preferred men.

I was rapidly beginning to understand that a run was not in our future this afternoon. With that in mind, I pulled myself onto the hood of his jeep and crossed my legs.

"Say what you have to say. I'll listen." I offered genuinely.

If Puck wanted to actually have a serious discussion, then this was obviously something that was important to him.

He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly surprised.

"Can you manage to keep that mouth shut for the next ten minutes?" Puck requested, understanding my difficulty with refraining from speech.

"I had no idea you could last that long, Puck." I teased.

"Sex isn't supposed to be a marathon." He smiled at me, and a slight sense of relief washed over me. I didn't enjoy it when he was seriously irritated with me.

"It's not always a sprint either." I shot back.

"Focus!" He brought us back to the topic at hand. "Give me ten minutes." He demanded again.

"Fine. You have ten." I relented, ready to get whatever this was, over with.

"We're going back more than just six months to give you some proper context."

I opened my mouth in protest, but he held his hand up in such a similar way to how I did when I wanted people to stop talking that I couldn't help but smile and allow him to continue.

"As far back as I can remember you and Quinn were a two for one deal. It sucked because none of us boys could ever get either of you alone, and together, you were far too intimidating to approach. Even so, my hormones took over in late middle school and I started begging the less bitchy target, Quinn, to be my girlfriend. Don't get me wrong, bud, you have always been hot, but she seemed like she was less likely to have vagina dentata than you did."

I didn't know whether to laugh or grimace at his vagina teeth comment. I was pretty sure that I did both. With this walk down memory lane, I remembered why I hated middle school Puck so much.

I realized how hypocritical it was to have pushed Quinn away for the whole "lesbo" thing, and then to have grown close to Puck less than a year later.

Puck's part of the ordeal wasn't what had hurt me though. Comments like that were annoying, and they always turned my stomach in an unfortunate way, but they didn't destroy me.

Now as for Quinn, I had naively believed that she was my soul mate of sorts. I had thought that I was in love with her. She was the only one involved in that conversation who had the ability to break my heart and she unknowingly smashed it into a million pieces.

After that, Puck was just a pawn in my scheme to knock Quinn off of her pedestal. But like Brittany, eventually my relationship with him wasn't a game anymore. I saw the jerk for who he really was, which was still a jerk, but he was a jerk with a good heart. Plus, he was about as homophobic as I was.

He was an ass, but he was my ass.

_Where the fuck was this going? _

I wished that I had a watch, because I wanted to end this at ten minutes exactly. Not a second later.

_God, I hope he isn't going to talk about Quinn for ten minutes. I'm not sure I can stand that. _

"Funny thing is, she ignores all of my AIM messages, and sends away all of my friends that bug her for me in the hallways…that is, until you ditch her. You disappear for a while, and suddenly the two hottest girls are not constantly attached to one another. I make my move once again and within a few short days, she gives in to my persistent nagging to be my lady."

I may not have been allowed to speak for ten minutes, but I could sure as hell still roll my eyes. Puck was kidding himself if he thought that he knew anything about Quinn and me.

"But the story doesn't end here, my friend. Quinn Fabray may be my girlfriend in name, but it is your name that constantly leaves her lips. She's always asking about you. She doesn't care that I have no reason to know anything about you. She pushes me to get closer to you. She tells me to be less of an ass, and actually gives me tips on how to befriend you. I'm cool with it. She won't even let me kiss her yet, and I would jump through any hoop to get to first base with the girl."

I grimaced at that. I did not want to listen to Puck discuss how much he had wanted Quinn Fabray. It made me want to punch him, and I didn't like feeling that way toward my best friend.

"When you and I…get it on…and she finds out about it I expect her to slap the shit out of me. But no, it's just more questions from her. She doesn't break up with me until weeks after that. As a former expert on the matter, that is by far the most peaceful reaction I have ever received when caught cheating."

_Okay, well that's odd. _

But this was all just circumstantial so far.

"After you and I do the dirty, as you know, we start hanging out more often, and I still do my recon efforts with Quinn about you hoping that yours won't be the only panties that I get to see my freshman year. No offense. Yours were…great. But I still don't give up on my pervy pursuits of Quinn even though she's now officially thrown herself into being the Celibacy Queen."

I gave him a sarcastic nod of thanks for his panties compliment.

I wanted to tell him that he was gross, but I had promised him ten minutes.

"So I slip her some info that I expect to be well received, because it's about you and your Cheerio plans, and she breaks up with me like it's nothing. No reason at all. Just so you know, I didn't fall for your girl. She has always been a fine piece of…beautiful, but she didn't give me the time of day even when we were dating."

_My girl? _

_ Fuck, am I that obvious? Does everyone know that I've always had a thing for Quinn? I must be a total joke. _

I was unabashedly glaring at him by now, so much so that I didn't even give him non-verbal credit for saying "beautiful" instead of whatever lewd thing he was going to say instead.

_Why the recon missions? Was she trying to figure out my next move?_ I didn't think she had actively made efforts to ruin me like I did her.

"Less than a year later, Finn gets quarterback and suddenly he's on Quinn's radar. You two are battling for that top spot, and he's the best way to get her there. But here's the wrench, word starts spreading that you aren't a dedicated fan of the manparts. In fact, the word on the street is that you are Brittany are getting your scissor on. Weeks within that first whisper, the President of the Celibacy Club is pregnant. The girl who would barely allow me to touch her over her clothes gets knocked up. By Finn of all people, which from the reviews I have received, I am far better in the sack than he is."

"Oh, I don't doubt that." He allowed that interruption in, of course. With as awkward as Finn is, and his complete lack of rhythm, I couldn't imagine Finn was anything but awful in bed.

_Was Puck trying to infer that Quinn had sexed Finn because she found out that Brittany and I were getting it on?_ That seemed like quite the stretch.

"Finn's my boy. I know you hate his clumsy guts, but he's still my boy. I won't even get into what I know about what you did to Finn's junk after he dumped your girl for the Jew because this talk is not about convincing you that you are all about Quinn Fabray."

_What is it about then? _

I must love this boy, because I allowed him to keep going despite how painful it was to even hear the blonde's name.

"So she loses her baby, Finn drops her, and yet, despite the fact that you treat her like complete shit, she applies at the place that you work. Quinn Fabray, who is has one the few trust funds that could even conceivably rival yours, applies for a fucking job. And not just any job. A job where she is working with her very worst frienemy. She supposedly cannot stand to be in the same room with you, but she purposely chooses to spend out of school hours in your proximity."

I could have argued that point. Quinn loved her art shit, just like I loved my music. I knew firsthand that our work was not only a fantastic outlet, but it was also incredibly rewarding.

"Here's where things get sexy. Enter Sadie Brooks. Now this is no Brittany. This girl is out about who she is, she is proud, and she can keep up with your shit. She's smart, she's determined, and she's hot, and Quinn turns all dark and twisty whenever this ginger is in the vicinity."

I shot him another eye roll, but I was beginning to try to view things from Puck's perspective. Quinn's mood did always seem to darken when Sadie was involved. I had assumed that it was because she didn't like sharing the attention of our friends with another HBIC.

"This where the six month pass comes in. The underlings at this school have no idea why, but suddenly you and Quinn are no longer on the verge of cutting each other Brittany style. You two went from hot verbal battling on the daily to getting dopey looks on your faces whenever one of you comes into the room. Then Prom arrives, and Quinn can't take her eyes off of you the entire night. Every time you wander away from the group, she reaches for _my_ flask."

I did _not_ have a dopey look. This face was _never_ dopey.

Ego aside, Puck was beginning to make some sense.

"Your disturbingly oblivious ass gets your mack on with Sadie and the lesbian shit hits the fruity fan. Quinn starts calling this chick all of the whorey names, and even your smokin' ginger lady can see what's been smacking you in the face for months because she's ready to step to this girl who so obviously wants a piece of her date."

Yeah, Quinn's reaction to that had been strange. It was difficult to explain that away. Jealousy was the only convincing fit for that one. Quinn went _after_ Sadie that night.

Jealousy didn't always mean romantic feelings though.

On the other hand, Sadie was never threatened by anyone besides Quinn. She wasn't a jealous person, but something about the blonde always put my redheaded ex on edge. Even Brittany, who came after Sadie with a broken beer bottle, didn't get under Sadie's skin like Quinn did. I had worried that Sadie could see my feelings for Quinn, but I had never contemplated that perhaps it was Quinn's feelings that Sadie was concerned with until now.

"Mercedes tells me later that night that Quinn turned into a psychopath when she discovered that you were in trouble. Apparently, she was crying and basically willing to kill anyone in the hallway that was in her way of getting to you. She bit off the head of any person who dared to speak to her after that. And then after we return to your house, she barely moves, barely says anything before you get back."

Imagining Quinn that distressed was like a needle to the heart.

_God_, I didn't know what I would have done if Quinn and I had been in opposite positions that night. I probably would have murdered those guys rather than just sending them to the hospital.

But she was my friend. It's normal to be upset when you're worried about a friend. She had cared about me. That much was clear.

"You return, and I am a reliable shot delivery boy, even though upon entrance it is all too clear that I am imposing on Quinn's Santana time. By the way, Mercedes definitely heard the two of you doing the dirty when she went to find you shortly after I left your room." He wiggled his man-manicured eyebrows at me, and I kicked him lightly with one of my sneakers.

_Well, that's embarrassing._ Even though we weren't doing the dirty. In truth, we probably would have been if Mercedes would have waited a few more minutes before walking in.

"That night, the Prom Queen doesn't even bother to hide how crazy she is about you. She spends the rest of the party staring at you or glaring at Sadie, just like your future girlfriend had accused her of earlier. She drinks way too much, much like she did on your birthday when I gifted you with your Sadie lap dance."

_Did Quinn really stare at me that much?_ Sadie had obviously noticed it, and apparently Puck did as well. I had thought that I was the only one who had a staring issue.

Despite our falling out, it was something that I had continued to struggle with all summer long. There was no one more beautiful to me than Quinn.

It didn't help that her summer dresses were slightly shorter than her usual dresses. And it certainly didn't help that we had started using the foam pit. Every time she flipped into it I fought the urge to pin her down in the cubes.

"You close the evening by having hot lesbian sex with Sadie instead of spooning Quinn which we both know was what you would have rather been doing, and Quinn in turn emasculates Sam when she finds out the next morning. Apparently she called him a "little bitch". She ditches him and his big froggy lips before the weekend is even over."

I had no idea that Quinn had broken up with Sam that soon after Prom, but even so, I wasn't sure what that even meant.

_Would I rather spoon Quinn than fuck Sadie? _

_Oh my god, I would. He's totally right._

_ Who am I? _

"So then, she sleep fucks you so hard that she moans your name while passed out on a crowded plane. She steps in front of your crazy ass when you're on the verge of ruining your future by slaughtering Finn. And now that the two of you are not in cahoots anymore, she can't stand to be in the same room as you." Puck inhaled deeply before continuing.

I had never in my life heard this boy talk this much. Well, maybe about Halo or Super Mario Brothers, but nothing like this.

If she hadn't stepped between Finn and I that night, I probably wouldn't have stopped myself from really hurting the guy. I had worked my ass off for that competition, but it was knowing that he had ripped the title from my fellow Glee members' hands just so he could flaunt his love for Berry that made me lose it.

"This is the girl that you have been absolutely cuckoo for her PomPom Puffs for since I have known you, and you treated her like garbage for years, and she _still_ didn't give up on you. What the fuck are you doing? And all of this, this is just an outsider's view. Who knows how many times you have been privately slapped in the face by how she feels about you, you dumbass."

I was stunned. Not by his name calling, because we have called each other every name in the book. I was stunned by my own idiocy.

I hadn't been an experiment to Quinn. Puck didn't even know about all of the make out sessions, or how Quinn had poured her heart out to me in NYC, and he was able to see that Quinn had real feelings for me.

In eighth grade I had pushed her away because I had felt like she had rejected me. This time, I pushed her away for doing the exact opposite.

She had accepted me. She had wanted me. She had fought for me.

It was_ I_ who had rejected _her_.

She forgave me for all of the unthinkable things that I had done to her over the years, and she had trusted me with her truth and she had allowed me into her heart.

"You can talk now." He permitted me to speak, taking another deep breath to recover from his long speech.

After all of that, I wasn't sure what to say. I had no idea that Puck paid that much attention for one, although it sounded like Mercedes had a hand in all of this as well. Secondly, I had spent so much time and effort convincing myself that Quinn did not possess any legitimate feelings for me, that it was incredibly unnerving for Puck to bulldoze down all of the walls that I had been constructing for years in mere minutes.

"I can't believe you just said all of that." I was pretty sure that I was staring at him like he had two heads.

He still appeared to be irritated with me.

"You think I like talking to you about this? Because I don't, but since you're a scary werebitch no one else was going to have the cojones to do it. The two of you are driving everyone crazy." Puck pointed and me, and then down the street towards Quinn's house.

_A werebitch. That was new one. I kinda like it. _

"That's our business." I responded weakly.

I wasn't stupid enough to actually think that the tension between Quinn and I didn't impact our friends.

"Your _business_ is going to ruin our little version of The Breakfast Club that we have going here if you don't check your shit." He smacked his hands down on the hood on either side of my legs.

"You slept through that whole movie when I tried to make you watch it." I leaned forward, completely unafraid of my friend's semi-violent movement.

"I get the concept, okay? I'm just saying that this is our last year together, and you're making people feel like they have to choose between blonde and brunette." Puck shook his head at me.

_God_ I hoped that wasn't true. I didn't want to lose anyone, and I didn't want Quinn to lose any of our friends even less.

"You're such a sap." I teased, resting a hand on his shoulder near his neck to give him a friendly shake.

"And you're my favorite little Hispanic coward." He responded without spite.

I had been a coward. I didn't want to be that person anymore.

"Even if you're right about all of this, I probably missed my chance with her. I'm pretty sure she hates me now. I was a complete bitch to her in New York." I bit my lip in frustration. That was the first time that I had directly said anything honest about my relationship with Quinn to anyone.

I had no idea what to even say to her to make up for what I had done.

_I was so fucking stupid. _

"As if that's anything new. She's forgiven you before, babe. But how about we wrap this crap up, because you've almost depleted my emotional capacity here. No one is buying the untouchable bitch act from you anymore. As for you being unlovable, you are the only one who you have successfully convinced of that. Blondie down the street is just one glaring example of what a failure that has been."

I slid off of the hood of his jeep, and into the arms of my muscular friend. I hadn't believed that we could grow any closer after what happened at Prom, but we definitely just did.

I was pretty comfortable about my sexuality, but Puck was one of the very few things that still made me wish on occasion that I was into guys. He was my hetero soul-mate.

But my only _real_ chance of happiness lived down the street.

It was time for me to fight.

I had the feeling that this was going to be a much harder fight than taking on six asshole hockey players, and Puck couldn't have my back for this one.

But she was worth it.

"Why are you still standing here, Lopez?" My mohawked wake-up call pulled back from our hug with an encouraging smile, and a wink.

I had predicted wrong earlier when I had thought that I wasn't going to run that afternoon. I did run after all. But not for a workout. I ran to _her_.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter XXVII**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

It was a short distance to Quinn's house, but because I was all out sprinting the entire way, my lungs _were_ burning faintly when I reached the Fabray's driveway.

_Maybe this isn't such a good idea. _

I hadn't even given myself an opportunity to figure out what to say to her.

At the sight of Quinn, my breath was no longer even remotely labored, instead, it was gone.

I hadn't expected her to be walking down her driveway in the direction of her baby blue VW Beetle in her white and yellow sundress when I reached her house. Although, I hadn't really expected anything at all since I hadn't thought this through.

She didn't notice me until I was already in her driveway.

"Santana?" She questioned skeptically and I watched her eyes flash through a heartbreaking array of emotions at the sight of me.

I saw pain, I saw fear, I saw anger, I saw confusion, and I saw need. A need that I could guarantee was reflected in my own gaze as well.

_How did I not see this before? _

My mom always told me that I had a gift for reading people just like she did, but I had never been able to read Quinn. I had convinced myself that it was because she was the Ice Queen, and she kept her emotions locked away much like I kept mine. But she couldn't have been that difficult of a read if Puck had been able to recognize how she felt about me.

I believe I had put up some sort of subconscious block for Quinn at some point, because the only thing more dangerous than my feelings for her was her possible feelings for me. I had gone to such great lengths to protect myself.

"Is there some sort of fire in the neighborhood or something?" She inquired suspiciously after I failed to find the words to respond to her pseudo greeting.

Her eyes flickered briefly down to my running outfit. I felt quite underdressed compared to her.

"No." I didn't know why I felt compelled to respond to her question when she clearly was not serious about it. Her eyes were growing steelier by the second. I had to take the leap. "I-I feel this pull."

Her eyebrows raised in a mixture of confusion and distrust.

_But hey, four words were better than one._

"It's a pull to _you_, Quinn. And, it has been there since the first time you stole my inflatable guitar in preschool. It's the most powerful thing that I have ever felt, and it just keeps getting stronger." I pushed my hand through my hair that I had yanked down while I was talking to Puck earlier. It allowed me to channel some of my nervous energy into something other than my voice.

Her eyes stilled on mine and I made myself continue before I could lose my nerve to do so.

"Ever since that day in Algebra class that feeling has scared the shit out of me. But no matter what ridiculous feats I go to, it never goes away. I've spent years trying to get rid of it. I've tried hating you, I've tried to think of you as only a friend, I've tried lying to you, I've tried lying to myself, but it is _unyielding_." I fought to keep my voice steady, and I fought to keep my eyes from watering.

She averted her gaze from mine in the direction of her car. She obviously had somewhere to be, but I was sure that her plans were not the reason for her avoiding my eyes.

I tested the waters and took a step toward her. She didn't backup, which was a good sign, but we also weren't anywhere close to touching in the first place.

"I can't shake this. I can't outsmart it. I can't beat it." While Quinn's eyes were averted, I took advantage of the opportunity roll my eyes upwards to prevent the formation of tears.

It was quite a blow to my ego to be unable to beat this. I managed to achieve everything else that I had attempted before, but not this. Never this.

She wasn't even trying to respond to me. Her mouth was clamped completely shut. She was just standing there, holding her left elbow in the palm of her right hand, her purse dangling from her forearm.

I watched as she bit the inside of her cheek before her eyes finally returned to mine.

"I hate that I have allowed my issues that I have with myself to hurt you. I shouldn't have wanted to fight this feeling so adamantly. These precautions that I've taken have only fucked me up worse, and I can't imagine the damage I have done to you. I've been so awful to you. The things that I have done _are_ unforgiveable."

It was nerve-wracking to be spilling my heart like this without any idea of what she may be feeling. I had never done anything like this before.

It made me feel even worse about NYC. If her silence was this unbearable, I can't imagine how my insensitive retorts must have made her feel.

"These past three months have been a waste without you. All of the time I have spent struggling against this has been a waste. But I _have_ realized that I would rather fight with you until I'm blue in the fucking face than fuck anyone else." I swung my arms out at my own admission.

I stepped once more in her direction. She still didn't back away but she was making absolutely no movement toward me in return.

I studied her as she inhaled deeply; her hazel eyes were dark and conflicted.

"What are you expecting from me here, Santana? I've waited for what feels like forever to hear even a fraction of what you just said. Thank you, Santana, for finally being honest with me, if that is what this is…but I don't trust you." Quinn was practically snarling at me.

_What __**did**__ I expect?_ After everything I had done, I was lucky that she had listened to me at all.

But when she said that she didn't trust me, it felt like she had taken my heart into her graceful little hand and squeezed it as hard as she could.

"I know that this is extremely late, but you asked me how I felt about you. And I want you to know, that I feel _everything_ for you." I emphasized thickly with an emotional rasp.

I wasn't running away. Not this time. With our personalities and our history, things would probably never be simple or easy with Quinn, but she was all that I wanted.

"And how do you think I felt about you? Do you think I _chose_ to fall for the most emotionally unavailable person that I have _ever _met? Do you think that I _wanted _to have those feelings for a girl? At least you knew that you were gay. I don't even know what this makes me. I've never had those feelings for a girl before. I've never had those feelings for _anyone_ before. It was confusing, and terrifying and you left me _alone_ for it, Santana." Quinn wasn't yelling, but her tone was dripping in bite, and her eyes only demonstrated more anger.

_Fuck, that was a bunch of past tense. _

_Felt. Those feelings. Was. _

_Ugh. _

Each word seemed to steal another breath from me.

Normally this would be high time for the flight part of my fight or flight instincts, but no, I wasn't going anywhere.

It was so bittersweet to hear that she _did_ fall for me. It was like knowing that you would have won the lottery had you only bought a ticket. Although, I guess this was more like buying the winning ticket, but throwing it away before I even realized I had the right numbers.

I was so clueless. Or as Puck would say "disturbingly oblivious".

_Who am I to have felt that my emotions were so fucking unique? I wasn't some specially evolved being that no one could ever hope to understand. Far from it. _

"In spite of all of that, I still opened up to you and I tried to get you to open up to me. _That's_ how strongly I felt about _you_. So, if you are going to stand here and try and convince me that your feelings were just _so_ strong for me that you just couldn't bring yourself to overcome anything at all for them, then I don't know why you came here." Her eyebrows were drawn together in frustration, but she made mad look _good_.

_Felt. Past tense again. _

_ Wow_. I knew that I wasn't an easy person to approach or an easy person to attempt to discuss feelings with, but I hadn't thought to compound how difficult that would be with the sexuality confusion it must have caused her as well.

She was right. She had been courageous for me while I had been weak for her.

_You know, there was a time where I had no one around to call me on my shit, and now I feel as though I have that in abundance._ _Great._

But even with the recent developments, no one could manage to put me in my place quite like Quinn Fabray could.

"I'm so sorry, Qui…" I began softly.

It was difficult to refrain from hugging her when all of the pain I had caused her was on such obvious display. A hug seemed like the last thing that she wanted from me in that moment, however.

But an apology, an apology I could do. She deserved so many of them from me.

"No, I'm not finished. You're not safe for me. You're the farthest thing from it. I don't know how you'll act towards me tomorrow or in a week or in a month. I will never know where I stand with you. I mean, are you going to go fuck Sadie after this conversation is over because it didn't go exactly how you planned it would? I have no idea, Santana. I can draw your face from fucking _memory_, but I couldn't fill a page with real things that I know about you if I tried. And the only things about you that I even know, I've basically had to piece together for myself." Quinn threw her finger up to halt my apology, and continued to make her aggressive hand gestures throughout her tirade.

_Ouch. _

I had thought that keeping my heart to myself was the best method of keeping it safe, but by doing so, I had made Quinn feel unsafe and unwanted.

_God_, I had put this girl through the ringer.

That wasn't the first time Quinn had complained about not knowing me. But I had no clue that it had upset her that deeply. I had no clue about a lot of things.

I had spent so long shielding myself from people getting to know the real me. I had no idea how to go about showing her who I was.

"I have to go. I was supposed meet Mercedes at the movie theater five minutes ago." She sighed and shook her head at me before she briskly walked around to the driver's side of her car.

"I'm not giving up." I called after her as she swung her door open to slide inside.

And I didn't. I didn't even go to Puck's party that night, and to his credit, he didn't argue with me when I told him that I wasn't going to be in attendance.

I had work to do.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

On Monday morning, I strolled confidently down the hallway, my emotionless mask attached as firmly as I could manage. Even without my red black and white shield on, the masses parted easily for me when I walked. I didn't need Santana and Brittany by my side to have that effect on people.

We didn't have cheer practice this morning, because Coach Sue unceremoniously gave us a break on the first day of school. My best guess was that she was finally getting laid.

The break couldn't have come at a more opportune time, because I couldn't handle being around Santana right now. I was relieved with every passing moment that I still hadn't seen her. I was grateful not to run into her in the parking lot, or by the front entrance, although I was pissed at myself for being disappointed that she hadn't called or texted me after she had ambushed me in my driveway.

It was just as I said it would be. I could never predict how she was going to act. It was stupid of me to even have retained a shred of expectation that she was going to make some real changes.

I had just…I had never seen that side of Santana before. It was groundbreaking, and it was shocking. I had wanted to pepper her perfectly smooth face with kisses, and tell her how proud of her I was. I had wanted to forget about the movie with Mercedes, pull Santana inside, and make love to her until my parents came home. I had wanted to tell her how much I had missed her and I had wanted to make her promise to never let me go again.

But, that would have been crazy. I would have been a total and complete idiot to do any of those things. I had just spent the whole summer attempting to put myself back together, and all she gave me after three months were words.

Wonderful, _wonderful _words, but that is all that they were. Her words could have changed by today. I had no evidence that I would ever hear such words from her again.

_"I'm not giving up." _

That was the last thing that she had pronounced to me before I drove away from her. They were just more words. There was no sign that they meant anything.

And still yet, those four words floated constantly in the back of my mind.

Sighing, my fingers glided through my locker combination as soon as I reached my locker. It was automatic by now; I never had to search my mind for the numbers.

I crouched down to unload my backpack, before retrieving my notebook for my first class from the pile. Without even looking, I reached in the top of my locker for the spot where I always kept my pens.

I blinked twice when my fingers came into contact with something unfamiliar.

_What the…? _

There was a rectangular piece of parchment paper hanging from the ceiling of my locker by a piece of dark twine.

The border consisted of spirals with thick bases. They reminded me of something, but I couldn't quite place it.

I could however place the handwriting in the center of the parchment. It was more carefully crafted than the script I was accustomed to from her, but it was definitely Santana's elegant cursive. It appeared as though she had actually written on the paper in legit calligraphy ink.

**_Quinn, _**

**_ You once told me that you wanted to know me, and more than anything, I want to give you everything that you want. _**

**_ Each day I will tell you something about me that I've never told anyone else. I will fill as many pages with my truths for as many days as it requires. I will write until you know me. I will write until you trust how I feel about you. _**

**_ You may not have been able to depend on me before, but you can depend on me for this. This is an expectation that I will set and meet. _**

**_ Eventually, if you do so allow me, I will show you with more than just parchment how serious I am about this and about you. _**

**_ Today's truth: The border is from A Nightmare Before Christmas. Ever since it came out, you and I watched it together every Halloween until the eighth grade. Despite your absence, I still watch it every year, although I don't do your Lock, Shock, and Barrel impression any justice. _**

**Yours,**

**Santana**

I detached the paper from the ceiling, rolling my thumb over the material of the paper as I read.

_Who knew that Santana was capable of something like this? _

_ I guess that is kinda the point of this whole thing. _

_Gosh_, it was like she had peered right into my soul. This was exactly what I had wanted from her all of this time.

_Well, not exactly._

I didn't expect it to come in this form in a million years. It was almost unsettling how she had hit my heart bullseye like that.

I smiled at the Nightmare Before Christmas truth. I had missed spending Halloweens with her.

It seemed too good to be true. I had figured that she was going to fall back into ignoring my existence after Saturday, but she went the grand gesture route instead.

But _god_, I couldn't allow myself to believe that it would last.

A tear that I am assuming belonged to me, splashed on the page before I recognized that it was even falling. I brushed my eye with the back of the hand before sliding the paper back into the locker and slamming the door shut.

_Fuck, I hope no one saw that._

* * *

On Tuesday, as promised, there was another piece of parchment hanging from another piece of twine.

**_Quinn, _**

**_ I didn't quit Glee Club after I stopped my unfortunate attempts to sabotage you, because it is the best part of my day. Besides the loserness of it all, I was afraid to perform or sing around other people because there was so much emotion involved. But I learned that I loved it. I was able to be passionate, vulnerable, and engaged. I was able to work through real emotions that I was experiencing without having people think that they were actually mine. And as we both are aware, any tool I can use for working through my shit is a good thing. _**

**_ Yours, _**

**_ Santana_**

* * *

Wednesday.

**_ Quinn, _**

**_ Every year I get a Happy Birthday Card from my father, and I'm pretty sure that his interns sign them because his handwriting changes every time. It's not a great loss by any means, but I probably won't be getting one next year. On the day you were waiting for me in the choir room he told me that he was disowning me. _**

**_ Yours, _**

**_ Santana_**

* * *

Thursday.

**_Quinn, _**

**_ You said that you didn't know that you liked girls before me; well I didn't know that I liked girls before you either. _**

**_ Yours, _**

**_ Santana_**

* * *

Friday.

**_Quinn, _**

**_ In March, one of my drum students gave me a painting that he made in your class, and even though it is a completely shit painting, I kept it because I know that you helped him make it. _**

**_ Yours, _**

**_ Santana_**

* * *

Monday.

**_Quinn, _**

**_ My father taught me how to defend myself from a very young age, but he would never actually allow me to go with him to his Jiu-Jitsu classes. He told me that strong women were perceived to be lesbians, and he wouldn't have anyone thinking that his daughter was a dyke. I was 9-years-old the first time he told me that. _**

**_ Yours, _**

**_ Santana_**

* * *

Tuesday.

**_Quinn, _**

**_ I used to tell people that you and I were sisters until I learned that sisters couldn't get married to each other. _**

**_ Yours, _**

**_ Santana_**

* * *

Wednesday.

**_Quinn, _**

**_ Despite popular opinion, I've only ever had sex with one guy, and that was Puck. It was a disaster, and I'm pretty confident that I am not the only one who felt that way. _**

**_ Yours, _**

**_ Santana_**

* * *

Thursday.

**_Quinn, _**

**_ The last time that I saw my abuela, she told me that she never wanted to see me again. _**

**_ Yours, _**

**_ Santana_**

* * *

Friday.

**_Quinn, _**

**_ You are by far the best kisser that I have ever kissed. I used to think that my world stopped spinning at the sound of your name, but then you kissed me and I was in a different world entirely. _**

**_ I want to spend hours kissing you, but I would never trade the few stolen minutes of your lips for anything. _**

**_ Yours, _**

**_ Santana_**

* * *

Monday.

**_ Quinn, _**

**_ Every time I mention you to my mother, she tells me that she misses you. I'm starting to wonder if she prefers you to me. I wouldn't blame her if she did. _**

**_ She told me once that I could choose something other than pain or nothingness. I choose you. _**

**_ Yours, _**

**_ Santana_**

* * *

Tuesday.

**_Quinn, _**

**_ These are all of the lies that I have told you since that night in the storage room: _**

**_1. I was too comfortable on the floor to help you wrap your foot._**

**_2. I would die of boredom if I focused my attention on you for more than a second. _**

**_3. Your singing voice lacks depth and entertainment value. _**

**_4. You're a Lima Loser. _**

**_5. I'm better than you at everything. _**

**_6. My feelings for you in eighth grade weren't a big thing._**

**_These are the truths: _**

**_1. That floor was not comfortable, and I was not comfortable sitting on it. Wrapping your foot meant touching you, and it was always difficult for me to touch you. Even when I was trying so very hard to hate you, I could never deny my attraction to you. _**

**_2. I've known you for over a decade and I have never tired of looking at you. _**

**_3. I love your voice. It's pure, and soothing, and sexy all at once. _**

**_4. There isn't one person in Lima that I am convinced will get out of here more than I am convinced that you will. Even Rachel Berry. You're incredible, Quinn, and you're going to do incredible things. _**

**_5. This one is laughable. You're a better writer, you're more artistic than I am, you're a more organized leader, you're a better friend, you're better with emotions…I could go on and on with how untrue that is. _**

**_6. I was devastated. You were my person. You were my solid ground. My feelings for you were very real to me, and I was broken without you. _**

**_Until tomorrow…_**

**_Yours, _**

**_Santana_**

* * *

Wednesday.

**_ Quinn, _**

**_ These are the continuation of my lies: _**

**_7. You're not my type. _**

**_8. I don't want in your pants. _**

**_9. I kissed you back under the porch because I hadn't had sex in over a week and because I was drunk. _**

**_10. I can't control my lack of interest in you. _**

**_11. I don't care that my mother is never around. _**

**_12. I kept my distance for a few days because I was trying to not spill the beans about your Cheerio promotion._**

**_These are the truths: _**

**_7. This one is more of an inaccuracy rather than a lie. Remember in Boy Meets World when Cory finally asks Topanga out for the first time and he tells her "If I had to dream up the perfect woman, she wouldn't even come close to you"? It's like that. Type would make it seem like I could meet someone with a similar set of characteristics and they would somehow fit me. You're not my type. You're the only one. _**

**_8. Oh, I definitely do. _**

**_9. I wasn't drunk and I kissed you back because it was something that I had fantasized about as far back as I can remember. I kissed you back because I was incapable of doing otherwise. _**

**_10. I can't control my overwhelming interest in you. _**

**_11. I care. I miss her so much, and it really hurts how little of a priority I feel like I am to her. It was really nice when you would stay over, and not just because I love having you around, but because it was nice to have someone there. _**

**_12. This is either a half truth or a half lie. It was hard for me not to tell you about Captain, but I was also rather bummed about your budding relationship with Sam, and also that you were going to Prom with him. I tried to be happy for you because I know that he is a good guy, but I wanted you for myself. _**

**_Until tomorrow…_**

**_Yours, _**

**_Santana_**

* * *

Thursday.

**_ Quinn,_**

**_ This is my final list of lies: _**

**_13. I did things to benefit you to fix my own karma. _**

**_14. I brought you upstairs on Prom Night because I needed your help getting out of my dress. _**

**_15. I won't change for you. _**

**_16. I don't care who you make out with. _**

**_17. Our encounters were just tipsy make out sessions for me. _**

**_18. I'm comfortable ending this on an odd number._**

**_ These are the truths: _**

**_13. I did things for you because seeing you happy made me happy, and I fucking love your smile. It's totally cheesy, but I would do anything to earn one of your genuine smiles. _**

**_14. I chose you because you are the most calming presence for me, and I was far from calm that night. _**

**_15. I think the falsehood of this is blatantly clear after the past couple of weeks. I won't change the good in me, but I am willing to work very hard to be a better person for both your sake and mine. _**

**_16. I very much care who you make out with. The whole fiery jealous Latina stereotype can find great evidential grounds within me. _**

**_17. They were anything but. There was not one kiss with you where I was just messing around for the fun of it. I told you weeks ago in your driveway and I mean it still now, I felt everything. _**

**_18. I'm not, and thus I'm adding this one. Odd numbered lists have always freaked me out. _**

**_Yours, _**

**_Santana_**

* * *

Friday.

**_Quinn, _**

**_ Tonight's half-time show is for you._**

**_ Yours, _**

**_ Santana_**

I detached today's parchment from my locker, adding it carefully to the growing pile before shutting my locker with a sigh. _Every school day for three weeks._ I was almost angry with her for doing this shit to me at school, because it was really difficult not to visibly react to her daily truths.

It wasn't just the notes. She wasn't ignoring me anymore. She involved me in conversations, she acknowledged me with a smile every time that we passed in the hallway that never failed to send my heart racing. She was no longer just being cordial to me.

It wasn't just the truths that I could depend on. I was beginning to believe that she wasn't just going to disappear on me again. I knew on Wednesday, that she would still be talking to me on Thursday.

She never spoke to me about the daily paper she left in my locker, but no matter how early I came to school or how late I left, it was always there when I opened the door.

I found out from Mercedes during the first Tuesday back to school that Santana had broken up with Sadie weeks before that. It still turned my stomach that Santana had dated her in the first place, but it made me feel more comfortable about our driveway encounter.

At work, it was Sadie who Santana was civil with, and it was _I_ was who she was friendly with. But, I still felt a twinge of jealousy when I would pass by their classroom during their dance classes. The redhead had been able to experience Santana in a way that I never did.

I started to feel more comfortable going to group outings, and my friends couldn't have been happier about it. Santana attended the gatherings less frequently than I did, and I can only imagine it was because she was spending time on her weekly projects. But slowly, I stopped dreading seeing her, and I looked forward to it instead. I went to group hangouts and parties because I _wanted_ her to be there.

The weight on my chest was lifting, and the burning agony inside of my chest that Santana's presence always instigated was gradually shifting to become a different burn all together. This burn was far more pleasant, but it was no less powerful.

I fought the effect of her truths on me at first. Probably much like she had fought her feelings for me all of this time. The whole thing was just so unexpected, and unlike everything that I had imagined her to be capable of.

I don't even know how to explain what it meant to me. It was the sweetest thing that anyone has ever done for me, and sweet doesn't even begin to describe it.

I fell deeper with each page; I fell harder with each swing of my locker door.

I was insanely curious about the half-time show, almost curious enough to break our silent pact about the notes to ask her.

It would be our first home game of the year, and the Cheerios never performed at the first game's half-time because Coach didn't want the school to witness anything less than perfection from us. We still cheered on our hopeless football team, but that was it.

* * *

Hours later in Glee, I was playing with my hands in my lap and contemplating exactly how I was going to express or explain to Santana where I was with us.

I didn't know how to go about telling her that I wasn't fixed, but I was no longer broken either.

But _fuck me_ if she didn't deserve _something_ from me after three weeks of her being amazing.

Rory was singing some song from Sesame Street, and Brittany was mouthing all of the words as she swayed in her chair beside me. If I turned my head to look at the tall blonde, I could get a glimpse of Santana's spectacular legs seated behind me, out of the corner of my eye.

"This song makes my dip taste bad." Puck rumbled behind me. He was, of course, seated next to Santana.

"Noah, you promised me that you were done chewing. If you don't spit that shit out before the Irish is done, I'm going to hit you so hard in the back of the head, that Kermit the fucking Frog is going to feel it." Santana threatened, and I could easily picture how she must have been gritting her teeth when she did so.

The girl could leave me over a dozen heartfelt messages in my locker, but she was still undeniably fierce. I wouldn't have it any other way. I wouldn't have her any other way.

"I liked you better when your threats didn't come from such a warm and fuzzy place." Puck whined.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" I couldn't see her face, but from her tone, she was definitely _not_ kidding.

"Okay, okay, fine. Fuck. I'm _so over_ this sexless marriage."

"As am I. You're starting to talk like me and it's pretty creepy." Santana agreed in jest, obviously referring to the "so over" part of Puck's statement.

"Want to make me dinner before the game tonight?" My mohawked friend propositioned.

"No. I have stuff that I need to do, but do me a favor and try to eat something that will make you suck less. You and your boys depress the cheer right out of me." I covered my smile with my hand at her insult.

Just as Santana finished speaking, Rory finished his song, and the room applauded. Practice was over, and Santana was out of her seat before Rory had even returned to his.

"I'll see you tonight, Q." Santana smiled at me on her journey out of the room, and my heart jumped.

"See ya." I croaked as I watched her leave.

_See ya? Really? _

_ After all of her pages, "See ya" is all I can say? _

_ Argh._

* * *

Santana didn't leave me with any hints as to what was in store for half-time. But, I _did_ notice as I followed the other Cheerios into the bleachers to sit during the half-time show that she was now, noticeably absent. I cursed myself for not keeping a closer eye on her, maybe then I would have either seen where she was headed or at the very least, I would know when she wandered away.

I had led the last three cheers. She could have left at any time during that and I wouldn't have noticed.

The drum cadence of the marching band started, as I took my seat, absent-mindedly watching the mass of black and red enter the field.

Obviously this was going to be a marching band half-time show. It wasn't unusual. Whenever we didn't perform, the band did. But that meant no Santana.

_Surely, I am missing something here. _

I searched the field, and the track surrounding it with my eyes, as the pit players pushed their long piano like thingies onto the field. I think Santana had told me once that the first one there was a Marimba…and that other one was a Xylophone. _Something like that._

I had never paid this much attention to the marching band before, but they did seem to be far fewer in number than usual.

"Where's Brittany?" Melanie asked me, nudging me out of my confused state.

"I don't know." I looked around our seating area and Brittany was nowhere to be found. I couldn't spot Dakota either.

I counted my squad. There were ten missing.

_When the hell did they sneak off? _

"Please welcome to the field a special ensemble of your William McKinley High Marching Band!" Our football announcer introduced the group over the speakers. The crowd cheered politely, well save for the band parents, because they were always really loud and enthusiastic.

The drumline crabstepped its way into two lines with a mass of other members behind them, and a horseshoe of other instruments formed around them as well.

The center drummer, played some sort of loud tap off on his or her snare before the rest joined. Cymbals waved and flashed theatrically behind the drumline as they played.

The giant band hats were all so low over all of their eyes that I couldn't even begin to try to recognize any of the band kids that I knew from my classes.

The other band members tilted their instruments up to the press box after a few bars of the drumline playing on its own. It was actually pretty cool. For the first time I watched as the drumsticks rose and fell in perfect sync with one another, and the whole ensemble grooved to the beat.

"Hey, this is Destiny's Child. Can you keep up? Baby boy, make me lose my breath, bring the noise, make me lose my breath." Melanie wiggled next to me, singing the lyrics, rather off key I must say, to the wordless music that the band was playing.

I glanced around to note that Melanie wasn't the only one shaking her torso to the beat.

The music stopped organically without the full passage of a minute, and with that, the pit came alive. Mallets were flying against the wood of the instruments, and not just the instruments that I recognized. Some of the players were swinging around things that I had never seen before. There was a wide array of bizarre noises and crashes coming from the pit, but all together, it sounded really good.

Another motion caught my eye however, as the center drummer stepped forward from the line, and someone from behind the drummer was pulling the jacket off of the drummer from behind him or…_nope, definitely a her_.

The harness of the snare drum was revealed with the removal of the jacket, but she detached the harness herself, setting the drum on the ground, before pulling the tall hat she was wearing over and off of her head.

The snare drummer shook out her raven colored hair, allowing it to fall to her shoulders, before the voice that haunts my dreams overcame the speakers.

My heart stopped, and every muscle of mine seemed to freeze in place as well.

_There's a drumming noise inside my head_  
_That starts when you're around_  
_I swear that you could hear it_  
_It makes such an all mighty sound_

"You guys, you guys, that's Santana!" One of the girls yelled from behind me, swatting someone else audibly with her hand in excitement. I thought it was Grace, but I was _so_ not focused on who said it.

"No way…oh my god, it is her. Santana! _Woo!_ Santana!" The girls went crazy when they came to the realization that the center drummer was their very own Captain.

They were whistling, hooting, and hollering like a bunch of maniacs. I really couldn't blame them.

I could see that Santana had been wearing a microphone headset under her hat. The band and drumline continued to play around her as she sang, but suddenly there was white among the black and red.

_There's my missing Cheerios. _

One by one they were stepping, instrumentless, from around the others, dancing as they disrobed partially from the band uniforms. It was rather entertaining to watch them go from the bulk of the uniforms to our Cheerio outfits that some utter pervert must have designed.

_There's a drumming noise inside my head  
That throws me to the ground  
I swear that you should hear it  
It makes such an all mighty sound_

My Cheerios' screams for Santana were deafening, although I was confident that they were not the only ones making a ruckus at this point. I'd never seen anything like this before. The Cheerios and the marching band did not ever mix.

It explained why I had periodically noticed Santana chit chatting with various band kids over the past couple of weeks. I had definitely thought that it was odd.

Even in the black shirt, and suspendered band pants, Santana was gorgeous. _Wasn't fair._

The red suspenders over her full breasts were actually kinda sexy, especially when she was singing like that.

Four Cheerios pulled two other band members in front of the drumline, dancing as they removed the two players hats and jackets.

_Oh my god. Rachel and Mercedes. _

They, too, were wearing headsets, and stepped forward and to the side powerfully to join their voices with Santana's.

_Louder than sirens_  
_Louder than bells_  
_Sweeter than heaven_  
_And hotter than hell_

Santana stepped back into the line as she sang with a smile, but this time she pulled her drum's harness back onto her shoulders, retrieving her drumsticks from the pouch on the side of her drum.

With four nods of her head, her sticks joined the rhythm of the others.

They played one handed for a couple bars, all seven snare drummers spinning their right sticks above their heads and between their fingers. Until, all seven hands came down together for one loud rim shot.

It almost reminded me of show choir choreography. At one point, they raised each stick to eye level, flattening them to each side, twisting their heads to the beat.

_As I move my feet towards your body  
I can hear this beat it fills my head up  
And gets louder and louder  
It fills my head up and gets louder and louder_

I could feel the beat thundering in my chest. I didn't know if it was because of the loud bass drums, or my pounding heart.

The snares crossed their sticks over their chests before slamming them back into the drums, throwing their arms forward in the direction of the audience before sweeping them in.

The sticks were a blur when they returned to the drums, as were the hands of the drummers. They were moving ridiculously fast.

The Cheerios danced like pros while Mercedes and Rachel rocked the Florence and Machine Song.

This is what she had meant. This was for me.

She never would play her drums in front of me. I only ever heard her play if I was around during one of her lessons. I knew she was good, but this, this I did not know.

_I run to the river and dive straight in  
I pray that the water will drown out the din  
But as the water fills my mouth  
It couldn't wash the echoes out  
But as the water fills my mouth  
It couldn't wash the echoes out_

Marching band kids weren't exactly at the top of the social ladder, but she by the noise of the crowd, she wasn't exactly risking any popularity points by performing with them. In fact, she was definitely elevating their cool factor.

_I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole_  
_Till there's nothing left inside my soul_  
_As empty as that beating drum_  
_But the sound has just begun_

The cymbal players moved in front of the snares, forming high-hats for the drummers to play on, before the snares separated, and the cymbals moved between them. The front line of drummers kneeled, swinging their sticks back to crash into the cymbals behind them.

_This is insane. _

"That's so hot." Christina panted to some other Cheerio beside her.

_Back off. _

_ Mine. _

I didn't even know if she was talking about Santana in particular, but I shot her a warning look just in case.

_As I move my feet towards your body_  
_I can hear this beat it fills my head up_  
_And gets louder and louder_  
_It fills my head up and gets louder and louder_

Drums tilted forward as the line kneeled, they ended with some tricky, but visually amazing stick work.

The thundering of the crowd was even louder than the band had been. I was on my feet, clapping, screaming, and whistling like everyone else. I knew I had the biggest smile on my face by the that way my cheeks were hurting.

Her eyes found me, and her smile definitely widened. She winked at me, spinning her stick with the others as they rose from their kneeling positions.

_Holy, butterflies. _

One of the other drummers put his arm around her shoulders, tugging her close in celebration but her eyes didn't leave mine until the ensemble began to actually march off of the field.

The announcer came over the speakers again "Let's hear it for your William McKinley High Marching Band, featuring the talents of senior Cheerio Captain Santana Lopez!"

I stood standing and cheering with the Cheerios until it was time to move back down to the track. My heart was still beating wildly even after we reached the asphalt.

I realized in that moment that I was ready. I was ready for whatever Santana was offering me. I was ready to show her how grateful I was for every effort she had made the past three weeks.

I was ready for us. I was ready for her.

I prayed desperately that she didn't have any plans for after the game. Sure, it was expected for the two cheerleading captains to attend the shindig after the first home game, but I could not have given a single fuck about that in that moment.

I knew everything wasn't going to be sunshine and happiness between the two of us, but I didn't need that. I needed her.

When Santana returned to her spot next to me, a couple of cheers late, back in her Cheerio uniform and high pony, I had to bite down on my lip, hard.

_Oh my god. How the fuck am I going to get through the next half of this game without kissing this girl senseless? _


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter XXVIII**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Showers are usually a form of sanctuary for me. There is just something about having that time with just me and the hot water that brings me serenity. It's the combination of the endorphins released from the heat, and the ability to physically cleanse myself even when I am not able to emotionally or mentally cleanse myself that really does it for me.

Tonight's shower was noisy, however, and not just because I was in a locker room with a bunch of girls who were buzzing around with excitement. It was noisy in my own mind as well.

_Three weeks. _

Three weeks of notes. Three weeks of pouring my soul out on paper for Quinn to read. Three weeks of carefully treading water. Three weeks of silence from her.

I had been struggling to be warm and friendly to her without being too friendly. I have always had a naturally flirtatious personality, and with Quinn that aspect of my personality is only magnified. So, to speak with her, while keeping my flirtatiousness in check was difficult to say the least.

She seemed incredibly weary at first, which was understandable, but day by day she began to return my smiles, and when I would instigate a conversation with her she slowly became more engaged.

And yet, not a single word from her about my truths. I didn't know what to think. She wasn't telling me to stop, but she wasn't telling me to continue either.

_But her eyes. _

Maybe it is wishful thinking, but now that I was actively attempting to figure out her thoughts and feelings, I could see that she wasn't done with me. There was a depth to her gaze that I never noticed before. I studied her as she interacted with other people, and her eyes never appeared the same when she looked at them as they appeared when she looked at me.

So despite the silence, would I leave another note in her locker on Monday_? Yes. And every day following until she asked me to stop. _

I can't count how many times Quinn had asked me to drum for her. I had always refused. In elementary school, I begged my mom for months for a drum set. She was more than happy to get me one, but my father was adamantly opposed to the idea. It caused far more fights and tension between the two of them than a instrument ever should. Eventually my mom won, on the condition that I never would play while my father was home. According to him, drums weren't for girls. He would have been much happier if I had wanted to play something like the flute, I was sure.

Because of that, my drums were always for me. I played for my escape, and not for the pleasure of others. Teaching was different for me, because I was helping others find their escape rather than showing them mine.

But if Quinn wanted to see all of me, than I was going to show her.

The half-time show seemed to have gone really well. The Cheerios I recruited had loved doing it, and the marching band truly enjoyed spending time with the Cheerios. Brittany had loved having the opportunity to blow into so many various mouthpieces. None of the guys in the band, of course, were opposed to her trying out their instruments.

Rachel and Mercedes were easy to recruit. They jumped at any chance to vocally shine against one another.

Ever since my discussion with Puck I had my suspicions about how much Mercedes knew about Quinn and me. To her credit, the diva never said anything to me, but by the way she had raised her eyebrows when I asked her to help me, I could tell that she had an inkling as to what the purpose behind the show was.

The football crowd loved the performance, and my Cheerios who did not participate in the half-time show were all over me as soon as the game was over. I was overwhelmed with questions and compliments the entire way back from the track to the locker room. It was uplifting to have so much support for something that I had always purposely hid from the world, but at the same time, I didn't have an opportunity to gauge Quinn's reaction.

All I had to go on was that smile.

It wasn't difficult to find her in the crowd during the performance. For one, my eyes were always drawn to her, and for two, the Cheerios had our own section in the bleachers which means I knew where to start my search.

Every time I had a chance to find the object of my affections during the performance, she had the biggest smile on her face. _That had to be a good sign, right? _

Even if the performance didn't lead to any sort of progress with Quinn, all of the work was worth it for that smile.

When I returned to the track, she kept glancing over at me, consistently showing me both rows of her perfectly white teeth. It probably wasn't good for my heart to have it jump that many times. I really didn't care, however.

I lightly tapped my forehead on the shower wall, as the water rushed down my bare back.

_What am I going to do if Quinn never wants to be with me? _

I sighed into the tile, pushing off of the surface with my fingertips.

"Santana?" Quinn's sweet voice echoed through the shower area. It was a far cry from how she had said my name just three short weeks ago.

I grasped the material of the curtain that was eye level with me and tugged it partially to the side.

I startled slightly at her proximity. I hadn't expected her to be standing less than a foot from my shower stall.

She appeared as though she had already showered and changed into her "street clothes". I guessed she was dressed to head straight to Dakota's party by her flowy white skirt and her swoop neck red blouse.

Her lips parted at the sight of me, and I watched as her eyes caressed my lips, jaw, neck, and collarbone. They were definitely en route to travel even lower.

"Yeah, Q?" I was smirking by the time her eyes jumped back to mine.

_God, I love her blush. _

I felt my bare chest rise and fall against the material of the curtain. It wasn't as if she would have seen anything had her eyes travelled much lower, but it was definitely an ego boost to see that she had been at least tempted to look.

"Um…" The blonde stammered.

It was my eyes' turn to wander as she bit down on her lower lip.

_Why is she so nervous? _

"Shit…okay." She inhaled deeply, and I continued my sly smirk. "Would it be okay if I came over tonight?" She pushed out, relatively smoothly given the nerves that were radiating off of her.

My smirk was gone. I was _not_ expecting that.

"Yes. I would be _very_ okay with that." I agreed with only a quick pause for process. I didn't want to lose this opportunity, whatever it was. "Do you want to wait for me to finish up here, or do you want to just grab my keys and meet me there?" I was trying my best not to sound overeager.

Her eyes flickered down to my curtain covered area.

"I think it would be better if I just met you there." Quinn asserted softly, although there was a particular hum to her voice that reminded me of her tone from our night in the foam pit.

"Okay, I'll be done shortly. My house keys are in the left side zipper of my bag." I directed, fighting to focus on her eyes rather than her lips. There was a definite heat in those hazel eyes, and it was a challenge to keep my tone steady.

"I remember where you keep your keys, San." Quinn stepped closer to me and I lost my breath somewhere in my throat.

"Right. I'm gonna go ahead and shower then." I closed the curtain before the blonde could have any further impact on my senses.

_Smooth. _

* * *

My hands were shaking when I pushed through my front door. I had hurried to finish my shower, dry off, and dress. I had taken my hair down and I did my best to make it look halfway decent. I only had time to make a slight adjustment to my makeup on the drive.

I felt like such a tool. I was so nervous.

I couldn't have imagined that heat in the locker room, surely, but I still had no real idea as to why Quinn wanted to come over.

_Was she going to tell me to stop trying? _

She may have fallen for me at one point as she said, but I had revealed some incredibly intense feelings to her. Even if she had been willing to try things with me at one point, perhaps the intensity scared her off.

_Ugh. _

I was _so_ not used to this vulnerability. It was terrifying that the woman on the other side of the door had all of the power to make or break me as she pleased.

When I entered, she was sitting near the base of the stairs, her pale legs crossed at the thigh, leaning back onto the steps above her. She set her phone down as soon as she noticed my entrance.

Surely, she had to know how sexy she was.

How can you look like _that_ and not know?

Despite my nerves, my mind flashed to how sexier she would look if I were above her on those steps.

"Hi." I greeted her, shutting the door behind me with my foot. I didn't move very far from the door, however. I didn't want to invade her space, and I had no idea how much space she wanted. I set my bag down right next to the welcome mat.

"Hi." She smiled, and thanks to the light in the foyer that she must have turned on, I could see how dark her eyes were. From yards away, I could still get lost in those almond shaped eyes.

Quinn crooked her finger, beckoning me toward her.

_What is going on? _

Even with my confusion and uncertainty, I obeyed, halting at the bottom of the steps.

She leaned forward with a heated smile, taking a fistful of my shirt in her hand, tugging me down with a gentle, slow determination.

Her eyes burned into mine, and she held my gaze for a few heated seconds before tilting her chin up and barely brushing her lips against mine.

Part of me felt like it must have been my turn to be dreaming.

My response to her barely there kiss, was not "barely" anything. Except maybe "barely" restrained.

_My god, how I had missed these lips. _

I was sure that my need for her was evident in the passion I was putting into the kiss, but I couldn't help it.

As I glided my tongue along her bottom lip, she still had a fistful of my shirt, and she tugged, but this time there was nothing gentle about it.

She uncrossed and flattened her legs, allowing me to get much closer to her. I put my arms out, my hands landing on the steps on either side of her with a soft thud.

She pushed her tongue into my mouth with a fervor that I had not experienced from her before. Not that I was complaining. I rolled my tongue against hers, allowing her to have her brief reign of dominance.

I felt her arch against me, as she pushed her hands under my shirt, her fingertips skimming along the muscles of my stomach.

We whimpered at the same time into each other's mouths, only hers was slightly more high pitched than mine.

Bending my elbows, I sought more of her touch on my skin, desperately wanting to feel her everywhere.

I chased her tongue back into her mouth before biting down on her lip, imitating her mannerism that always drove me crazy. I was rewarded with a moan, her fingernails digging into the skin over my ribs.

She practically whined when I separated my lips from hers, tilting her head forward immediately in search of my mouth again. Instead, I kissed the corner of her mouth, moving down to her jaw, before finding the incredibly soft skin of her neck. There was a hint of citrus to the taste of her skin, and I couldn't get enough of it.

I also couldn't get enough of how she was arching her body against mine each time I found a particularly sensitive area on her neck. I committed each arch worthy spot to memory, teasing one space with the tip of my tongue, before sucking the skin not-so-gently into my mouth.

"Oh…" Quinn moaned and I was pretty sure that her ass left the stair when she bucked into me.

I smiled against her skin, before repeating my previous action.

I was instantly addicted to the movements of her body, and her every noise.

I wished that my hands weren't holding me up, because I desperately wanted her skin under my hands. I didn't want it badly enough to risk moving, however.

I was very much aware of her hands, as they left my abs to the heated skin of my sides and onto my back. She traced the bottom hem of my bra strap, lightly scratching the skin just beneath it with her fingernails.

Unable to stop myself, I captured her lips with mine once again. I tasted of her lips, taking my time with this kiss, although it was all too obvious that she was not quite satisfied with the pace by the eagerness of her mouth.

I baited her tongue into my mouth, making just a hint of contact with hers before her tongue followed mine. I created a sweet suction, carefully sucking on her tongue, reveling in the feel of her carnal moan against my tongue.

My arms were starting to ache in their bent position, but I could not have cared any less.

Her hands traveled again to my sides, only this time, she squeezed just above my hips, and pushed me rather forcefully back. I was surprised, but I rolled onto my heels to stand.

_Well if I wasn't confused before, I sure am now. _

I was breathing heavily, gripping the top of the railing to steady myself.

"I'm sorry…I was…" I tried to find an explanation for why I had basically launched myself on her, but a "hey, you kissed me first" sounded so childish.

"Are you really apologizing to me right now?" She gasped incredulously. I averted my gaze from the top curve of her heaving chest.

I was glad that I wasn't the only one breathing heavily. I watched as she flattened her hands on the crest of one of the steps.

"You did just push me." I gestured in the direction of my own sides.

_Which a logical person would assume means that I did something wrong. _

"Did I actually hurt you?" She perked a disbelieving eyebrow in my direction.

_Fuck, I wish she would get her breathing under control. _

"Lucky for you I like a little pain." I smirked at her, cocking my head to the left. I had done pretty well with keeping the sexual innuendos to a minimum lately, but after _that_, it was a miracle I had any filter at all.

"Oh god…" Quinn's eyes rolled back briefly, before she sat up straight. "You can't say things like that, and look at me with that fucking sexy smirk of yours."

I was torn between a sense of triumph and confusion. Thankfully she was relatively quick to clarify.

"I want to talk to you before this goes any further, and it is next to impossible for me to just talk when you are looking at me like that." My smile only broadened at that admission, and she shook her head at me, standing and stepping to the side in order to walk around me. She was very careful not to touch me when she did so.

"Where are you going?" I inquired after her, following the pretty blonde through the foyer and into the kitchen area.

"I just need _something_ between us." She emphasized, not even shooting a glance back at me.

Even with as heated as things had been only moments ago, I couldn't help but think that she was adorable.

_Did I always have this effect on her, and I just didn't notice? _

She found her place behind the breakfast bar, and halted me with her hand, gesturing for me to go to the other side of the table.

"You're serious?" My smile had disappeared, and was replaced with a look of skepticism.

_She really needs a counter between us? And I thought I had it bad. _

"Yes. You gave me so much honesty, and that is some of mine." She asserted simply.

That was the first time she had acknowledged the notes. My heart sped up in response, and I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"And how did you feel about my honesty?" I asked hesitantly.

I was done hiding. If she was going to bring it up, I wanted to know.

_Feel. That is not a word I have often used. _

She traced circles on the counter with the fore and middle finger of her right hand. It was downright distracting.

"It was incredible. You're incredible. What you did for me, it was unbelievable. And tonight, holy hell, Santana, you were amazing." She sounded so sincere, and her eyes locked on mine.

It was nice to finally know that she appreciated it. It was such a relief, and I allowed a surge of hope to rise within me.

"Is there a but coming?"

"No, absolutely not. What you have done these last few weeks has meant everything to me. I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you sooner. I thought you deserved for me to be sure." She shook her head in response.

"Sure of what?"

I wasn't sure that we would ever have this conversation. It surprised me how much I had grown over the last few months. Here I was, purposefully, willingly jumping into a conversation about feelings.

"Sure of you. I didn't want to enter into anything and have you feel like you still had something to prove to me." Her fingers were still tracing those distracting circles, but her gaze compelled me away from the distraction.

_Enter into anything? _

_Did she bring me here for a relationship discussion? _

I couldn't allow my expectations to get too high. Otherwise, they were liable to be crushed.

"So what do you want?" I raised the question, teetering on the edge of heartbreak.

"I want what I've always wanted, Santana. I want _you_. All of you." She sounded so sure and determined.

_Stupid fucking counter. _

I was tempted to leap right over it. After our conversation in the driveway, I had believed that there was a distinct possibility that Quinn would never feel this way about me again.

My heart pounded blissfully in my chest. I never thought that a few words could make me so happy.

"I'm yours." It was a simple response, but I don't think I've ever said anything more true in my entire life.

_I was hers. Completely and utterly hers. _

"I want to ask you to say that again, but I won't be able to stay on this side of the counter if I do, and I have more to say. Will you say it again to me later?" She pleaded.

If she wanted, I would be more than happy to whisper that in her ear later while my hand was…

_Fuck, Santana. Focus. _

_More importantly, did this mean that we were together? _

"Yes. As many times as you like." I promised honestly.

"Stop looking at me like that." She ordered, breathing out very slowly and very carefully. She glanced down at the table at her own hand, avoiding whatever look I was giving her.

I was honestly unsure what my face looked like, but it could have very well been flashing the genre of thoughts I had been entertaining.

"You're bossy, Fabray." I smiled at her, loving this new power I had discovered.

"As I told you months ago, I can be submissive if that's what you need." Her voice was husky, and it was my turn to avert my eyes in order to keep my cool.

_Point, Fabray. _

"If I haven't made this clear yet, I apologize, but I want you all of the ways that I can have you." I took the challenge, very much enjoying this new game.

"Oh god…" She husked, gripping the edge of the counter tightly. "This is impossible."

"I'll behave if you do." I offered half-heartedly.

I didn't want to behave. I wanted my mouth on hers again. Or anywhere on her body really.

"I _so_ do not want you to behave, but we really should finish talking." By the expression on her face, she really meant it.

I couldn't help but let out my own shaky breath.

I nodded for her to go ahead. It was far easier to refrain from saying something out of bounds if I said nothing at all.

"So we can agree to be exclusive then?" She began. _ Jumping right into the meat, apparently._

"Q, we're not negotiating a contract here. Jesus." I brought my eyebrows together.

The way she had phrased it was just so formal.

"I need you to say it." She pushed, crossing her arms.

"Okay. I agree to exclusivity." I gave in with a roll of my eyes and a smile on my lips.

Exclusivity was not going to be an issue with me. I was just unfamiliar with talking through relationship specifics. It seemed so contrived.

"This isn't a joke, Santana." She snapped with a flash of angry eyes.

"I don't think it's a joke. You're just being a little intense." I explained with a shrug.

"It's important to me, and it'd be nice if you could say it with a straight face."

"I won't see anyone else, Quinn. I don't want to see anyone else." I responded genuinely, doing my best to keep a straight face.

"Thank you." She shot me a small smile.

"Is there more, or am I allowed to kiss my girlfriend now?" I prodded, leaning over the counter, reveling in the feeling of the heated skin of my bare arms on the cold counter.

"I'm going to add that to the list of things that I'll need you to say again later." She requested in her throaty tone, broadening her smile.

"You're my girlfriend?" I toyed with her. I knew exactly which part of that she had meant.

"Yes." She swallowed, smiling even wider yet. Her smile melted me completely.

"How low key do you want this to be?" I moved the conversation along.

Besides Puck, and maybe Mercedes, I wasn't sure that anyone even had an indication that Quinn was into me. I had no idea how comfortable she would be with us being a couple in public. Not to mention that her dad was as religious and bigoted as mine was.

I personally would be proud to hold Quinn's hand in public, but I had been warring with my sexuality a whole lot longer than she had. Sadie had been okay with PDA, and it never bothered me. I figured if it was okay for our straight friends to do it than it should be fine for us as well.

"What do you mean? Like Facebook relationship status?" She questioned.

"You always have to make things weird. And no, that's not what I meant. I don't do that shit."

_Is that what being public about a relationship meant to her?_

I guess it shouldn't have surprised me. Before me, Quinn had only dated for social status. I could see why her mind would automatically go to that place. She was all about appearances.

"Because you want people to think you're single?" She narrowed her eyes at me in accusation.

"No. It's just drama, and I really don't need any psycho who can find a way past my privacy settings to know everything about me." I threw my hands out at my sides.

I didn't have a relationship status up on Facebook. It wasn't even a category on my page, and I much preferred it that way. I only had a Facebook because Brittany had begged me get one when high school started.

"And your relationship status is going to make or break your sense of internet privacy?" She was clearly analyzing my expression. Something told me that if I played this wrong, I would be in trouble.

"Is it _that_ important to you?" I inquired, wanting to feel this out before I made a mistake.

"I don't know…I mean, I don't want you to do it, I just want you to _want _to do it." She attempted to explain, her volume raising slightly.

_Huh? _

_Well that was logical. Except not at all. _

"I'm headed for trouble here aren't I?" I asked rhetorically.

But as I said three weeks ago, I would rather fight with her than fuck anyone else. _ Guess I was stuck._

"We both are." She smiled at me softly, shaking her head.

"Okay, so you don't actually want me to add a relationship status to Facebook. But are we telling anyone else about us?" I tried to bring the conversation back to a productive place. I wanted to get this done so I could get back to getting my mack on.

"No. I don't think that's smart right now. If my dad found out, I would be homeless, and then there's Brittany." I knew she was trying to make a brave face but saw the panic in her eyes, and it made me want to do everything I could to protect her.

"So you just wanted to argue about the Facebook thing? That's ridiculous, Q." We had enough to worry about without her starting arguments for inconsequential bullshit.

"No. I didn't just want to argue." She glanced down at the counter, and I believed her.

"Whatever. What about Brittany?" Once again, I tried to bring us back to a productive place.

"You don't know?" She narrowed her eyes at me again.

"Know what? Brittany and I are friends. She even hung out with Sadie and I this summer." I articulated my point.

"You're really going to bring up Sadie right now?" Her teeth gritted, and I witnessed all of the anger and discomfort that Puck had outlined for me weeks ago.

"_Fuck_. You fight for me to talk openly but when I do, I can't say anything right." I countered, my tone dripping in irritation.

_Why did we even have to do this? Couldn't we just make out, and call it good?_

"You say plenty of things right. You just say a lot of stupid shit, too." She bit back.

"Wow, you must really want to be with me if you're willing to put up with so much." I grumbled sarcastically, sweeping my eyes over to the fridge before returning them to her.

"I do. I _really_ want to be with you. I'm not perfect, Santana. I'm stubborn, and I am possessive, and I am argumentative. I know that." She bit down on her bottom lip, with a degree of disdain for herself in her voice.

"Good thing that although all of those things can be really frustrating, they are also some of the hottest things about you." I smiled at her, not wanting her to go to a dark place concerning herself, not when I thought so very much of her. And they were hot. Most of the time.

She crooked her finger at me again, leaning over the counter. I leaned forward as well, connecting our lips. There was an instantaneous tingle. The counter edge was digging into my hips, however, so I pulled back before the kiss deepened.

"Okay. Tell me about Brittany." I needed more kisses, which meant we needed to wrap this up. I was ready to tackle whatever issues needed to be tackled to do that.

"She still has feelings for you, and before you argue with me I _know_ that she does. Without question. I don't want to hurt her, and I can't imagine what would hurt her worse than you and I being together." She expressed adamantly, once her eyes blinked open from our kiss.

"Shit." I swore. I had really hoped that Brittany was over whatever it was that she felt for me. I had worked so hard to draw careful friendship lines. "I understand the whole not wanting to hurt her thing, Q, but don't you think it will hurt her far worse if she found out that we hid it from her?"

Brittany would be crushed if she found out from someone else.

"Maybe, but you and I have enough shit to sort through without involving other people." She explained, as if it were that simple.

"So basically you want a secret relationship?" My eyebrows rose with my question.

I would wait for her to be ready. I had already waited over a decade for her.

"For now, yes." She nodded, her voice shaking. She was clearly worried about how I would take that tidbit.

"Okay. Whenever you're ready." I reached for her hand over the counter, and she brought hers up to meet mine. I attempted to soothe some of the lines of her face with the soothing motion of my thumb on the top of her hand.

"Really?" Her tone was hopeful this time. I squeezed her hand.

"Yeah, of course. I want you to be comfortable. I'm not going to push you to do anything that you're not ready for." I assured her.

"For the record, there are _so_ many other things that I am ready for." The husk was back in her voice, as was my awareness of my own arousal.

"Please tell me we are done talking." I begged, hearing my own voice grow heavy.

"We're done talking." She gave me the sexiest fucking smile that I had ever seen from her.

"Oh thank fucking god." I breathed. Releasing her hand, I launched myself onto the counter, sliding across it until I was sitting in front of her.

Her hands were on my ass without any further movement on my part, and she pulled me down roughly to stand in front of her instead.

Her hands did not leave my ass, however; instead, she kneaded the flesh through my jeans while she captured my mouth in a searing kiss.

"I guess I'm not going to Dakota's tonight then?" I teased, nipping at her bottom lip as we took a brief break for air.

"Not unless you have a death wish." She threatened, and although I was sure she knew that I was joking, there was not a shred of nonsense in her gaze.

* * *

We didn't stumble upstairs until more than two hours later. I was tugging on my sleep shorts when Quinn exited the bathroom after brushing her teeth with a toothbrush that she had left here before the summer started.

She stopped far short of reaching me, and placed her hand on the desk chair.

"San?" It was more of a warning than a question.

I studied her features. She was purposely keeping her distance from both me and the bed.

I hadn't even thought that a sleepover might be too much for the first day of a relationship. We had slept in the same bed so many times before. I hadn't given it a second thought.

"Are you worried about sleeping over now that we're together?" I inquired about the pained expression on her features.

I loved sleeping with Quinn, but I wasn't going to force her to stay over if she wasn't ready to go there with me yet.

"Kinda." She whispered loud enough for me to catch.

"Are your parents okay with you coming home this late? I can walk you down to your car." I offered, hoping that my disappointment wasn't obvious.

"I've only had sex three times and it was just with Finn." She educated me out of the blue.

"Okay…I'm sorry that you had to go through that?" I smiled through the gross twist of my stomach. I had no desire to hear about Finn.

She touched her swollen lips. They were red from our hours of exploring each other's mouths. From my trip to the bathroom, mine looked no better.

She smiled shyly, well her version of shy anyway. I studied her expression before recognition hit me.

"Wait, do you think I'm going to try to have sex with you tonight?" I asked with a shred of indignation in my voice.

My response did not please her.

"Is that such a ridiculous assumption for me to make?" She threw her hands on her hips.

_Was she really slut shaming me right now? _

"Yes, it actually is." I corrected her.

"Do you not want to…?" Her face fell in rejection, and she glanced away.

_Was she nervous about her inexperience?_ I couldn't tell.

"Are you kidding me? Of course I want to, Quinn, more than I have _ever_ wanted to, but I want to take my time with you." I hoped that the sincerity was obvious in my voice because I really, _really_ wanted to.

I had forced myself to stop from taking things further multiple times as I kissed her all over the downstairs area. I didn't want to rush this. Although it felt like it had been building for years.

"Would you put on pants then?" She asked quietly, but her smile was back.

I cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Please, Santana. I've never wanted anyone like this before, and your legs are just…they're too much for me if you want to wait."

_If I want to wait? Did that mean that she doesn't want to wait_?

I was afraid to ask. I wasn't sure that I could wait if Quinn Fabray were to tell me directly that she wanted to have sex tonight.

Yeah, on second thought, I was _sure_ that I wouldn't be able to wait if she were to tell me that.

I laughed throatily in reply, tugging open one of my drawers to grab a pair of pajama pants instead. After stepping into mine I threw another pair at her as well.

She caught them, glancing up at me in confusion.

"I'm not the only one with legs here, Blondie."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter XXIX**

**A/N: Happy New Year everyone! I hope it is filled with cheer and amazing fanfiction or whatever else floats your boats. **

** Also, I received a special birthday update request from user Eraygoza. This one is for you. Happy Birthday :). **

** Lastly, I have succumbed to the Tumblr world. If you have any interest in seeking me out there, my address is quasisuspect . Thank you for all of the brilliant support and feedback, and I'm super excited to hopefully continue hearing from all of you. **

* * *

**Santana's POV**

"Santana…Santana…Santana!" A fiercely irritated voice insisted on stealing me away from my comfortable and sound slumber.

I grumbled under my breath, vaguely pondering why my bed was so insanely warm and cozy.

Well, save for the two hands that were now shaking my entire body.

_Ah, I have an unhappy Quinn in my bed. _

That explained the warmth _and_ the wakeup call.

"You better either be naked or there better be a fire, because this is _not _a safe way to be waking me up in the middle of the night." I warned, refusing to open my eyes.

"Well I'm sorry that I can't sleep through your phone vibrating all fucking night." She snarled at me.

The phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand to punctuate her point. I reached for it blindly, slapping my hand over the screen, to drag it toward me.

I peered at the screen through slited eyes while I scrolled through my text messages. They were mostly from Puck and a few others bugging me about the party.

I sighed heavily, stretching out my sleep ridden limbs, rolling over to find my face mere inches from the grumpy blonde.

Despite my own annoyance, it was difficult to refrain from smiling when her furrowed brow was just so cute.

"What will you give me if I turn off my vibrate?" I proposed slyly as my eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"Give you? How about if you don't turn it off I'm going to throw it against the wall, and if it still buzzes after that I'm going to throw it out the window, and if I find it buzzing on the lawn tomorrow, I'll will take it to school on Monday and stuff it inside Rachel Berry's bra." An aggravated and sleep deprived Quinn threatened me.

I was slightly amused with her tirade until her last threat. _Nasty. _

Although, picturing Quinn stuffing her hand down the Hobbit's bra made me want to laugh again.

I held the phone by my ear so she could see it as I tabbed the ring button down to silent.

"If it was bothering you so much, why didn't you just turn it off yourself? We have the same phone, you know how to do it." I groaned, placing my phone back on my nightstand behind me.

"I don't know. I thought you would think it was weird for me to be touching your phone." She shrugged, glancing down to the skin of my shoulder.

"Q, I don't care. I don't have anything to hide here. It'd bother me if you were actively snooping because you didn't trust me or something, but otherwise, feel free to finger my volume controls if the shits bothering you." I explained, yawning under the cover of my hand.

"You just _had_ to find a reason to say 'finger' didn't you?" She accused, while her eyes traced the length of my tank top strap.

I laughed and shook my head at her.

"I didn't choose that word for any specific purpose. It isn't my fault that you're so sexually frustrated." I meant it as a joke, but by her expression, she did not take it that way.

"Really? I've been trying to have sex with you since your birthday, San. And then you kissed me all over the first floor like you fucking double majored in lips and tongue. So yes, I'm a little frustrated to say the least." She countered, clearly exasperated.

I would never tire of her telling me that she wanted me. It was intoxicating.

I pressed my lips to hers softly, aware of their swollen and overworked state. Quinn's hand was in my hair before I could deepen the kiss, guiding me closer.

"_So_ not helping." She breathed against my lips.

I slid one of my legs between hers in attempt to ease some of her frustration. I was incredibly turned on by how hot and bothered she was, and at the same time, I desperately wanted to make her feel good.

My thigh was met with a wall of undeniable heat, and she gasped, scooting back immediately before I could even make contact with the fabric of her pants.

"No…that is _really_ not going to help." She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes briefly as she did so.

I bit my lower lip, leaning back to provide her more space. It was definitely going to be a struggle to ascertain her boundaries. I obviously had misread what she wanted.

"Oh honey, no. Don't make that face." She cupped my cheek to emphasize her request.

_What face? _

I instinctively leaned into her touch.

"I _want_ you there. Believe me. But I want to give you your time if that is what you want, and it's so much harder to give you that, if you do_ that_." The blonde smiled at me, brushing her lips against mine lightly.

I was pretty sure that I still had a confused expression on my face, but other parts of my body at the mention of her wanting me "there", were not so confused.

"I can't believe I'm going to tell you this, but remember how I embarrassed myself on the plane to New York?" She reminded me clearly embarrassed, and I smirked in response, my stomach clenching in excitement at the memory.

"Well, riding your thigh was part of my dream." She admitted, and while her blush was adorable, the rasp of her voice was unquestionably sexy.

My jaw went slack and I felt my eyes darken.

"And the other part of your dream?" I knew that was torturing myself by even asking, but this was the most delicious sort of masochism.

"I'll tell you that when you do it to me for real." It was her turn to smirk.

_Jesus Christ. _

I rolled over with a heavy breath.

"Don't even think of trying to cuddle this tonight." I put my forefinger up by my ear for her to see, halting any progress she may have been making toward me.

I wasn't mad that she wouldn't tell me. I was a different sort of bothered all together, and I couldn't handle any part of her body against me.

* * *

"I'll be back in 45 minutes or so, depending on how quickly Puck wimps out." I explained to Quinn the next afternoon, entering the kitchen after I changed into my running clothes.

I had asked her while I was making her breakfast/early lunch if she wanted to run with Puck and me, but she had refused. She had been firmly set in her answer that Cheerio workouts were more than enough to quench her thirst for physical activity of that variety.

As she looked up at me from her plate, she missed her mouth with her forkful of the whole grain waffle that I had made her, stabbing herself in her left dimple instead.

"It's _September_." She emphasized each syllable of the month, appearing to be borderline mad as she did so.

"Astute observation, Ace." I gave her a "so what?" expression with my hands. It was still fucking hot outside, and running always turned me into a heat box.

"You're wearing a bra." _Another observation._

"I usually do. Not exactly okay for me to release these rambunctious twins unrestrained on the public." I cupped my breasts over my bra.

"That's all you're wearing!" She shouted, clanging her fork on her plate accidentally with the impulsive gesture of her hands.

"I have on shorts, too. And socks." I corrected, watching as her face grew red with irritation.

_What the hell did I do now? _

"Oh my god, did you really just tell me that you're not wearing underwear? You're doing this on purpose, Santana!"

This would probably be a bad time to tell her that she was hot when she was angry. But she was.

"No, I'm not! And you've seen me in just a sports bra a thousand times, Q." I argued.

I really wasn't trying to push her buttons, and I deliberately avoided the underwear question so as not to incur more of her wrath.

I was expecting Quinn to argue, but she was quiet instead. She took a measuring regard of me, and it was rather unnerving.

She placed her fork down carefully on her plate, and proceeded to completely stun me.

Nonchalantly, she tugged her own shirt over her head, tossing it onto the floor before returning to her waffle.

For non-workout activities I was particularly partial to lacy material in the bra department, but I was far more adamantly in support of whatever silky blue material was currently half-cupping her perfectly pale breasts.

My eyes trailed down to her toned stomach, and the curve of her waist.

"Fuck, Q…" I had to pause because I couldn't catch my breath. "That is not the same thing."

She shrugged, smiling into her next bite.

I rolled onto the balls of my feet, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek. I wanted to close the distance between us _so_ fucking badly.

I clapped my hands together twice like a total spaz, before slowly spinning on my heels, grabbing my running shoes from the front closet, and hauling my ass out the front door.

* * *

Puck was already waiting for me, texting while he leaned against the passenger side door of his jeep.

"If I were a chick, I would be giving you the silent treatment right now." Puck advised without even bothering to give me his usual eye scan as I stretched on the lawn.

My heart was still hammering in my chest from the effect of the shirtless blonde who was eating in my kitchen. It was all I could do not to run back inside.

"And why is that?" I inquired half-heartedly. If he was joking around, I wasn't getting it.

I was grateful that he wasn't paying much attention to me, because I feared that it was obvious that I was all kinds of turned on.

"You've been bailing on me a lot lately." He answered, crossing the lawn to my stretching form.

"Aw, did I hurt the Puckasaurus' feelings?" I fake pouted, standing up to roll my shoulders forward.

He was silent.

_Oh shit, he's serious. _

My face fell at the realization as I studied his expression.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were kidding." I apologized genuinely.

"Well I wasn't. I understand that this summer you were just being an idiot and avoiding Quinn, but you would at least tell me before you ditched. Now you two seem to be butt buddies again, and you're still no showing, except now you don't even give me a head's up. Dakota even got this stupid bowl shaped like a drum last night and filled it with those girly shit Jello shots that you like."

_Pretty sure those two are doing it. _

I was cool with it. Puck could do a whole lot worse than Dakota, in fact, he _has _done a whole lot worse.

"It was rude of me, you're right. I've been caught up in something lately. I'll fix it." I assured him.

He was right. That _was_ pretty fucking rude now that I thought about it.

_Ugh, I was going to have to apologize to Dakota or something._ _God damn it._

"Does this "something" have anything to do with why Quinn's car is in your driveway?" Puck gestured to the vehicle with a pervy smile. At least he was smiling at me again.

"I can't really talk about it." I explained softly.

I hadn't thought about what I was going to tell Puck. _Shit._

"You pounded her like a drum last night, didn't you? Why didn't you just say so? You know that getting some is a free pass in my book." He was grinning at his own drum joke.

Sad thing was, he would have given me a free pass. Sex is always a good excuse in Puck's book.

"Puck…" I warned, walking intentionally past him and onto the sidewalk. I heard his footfalls behind me, as I started to jog.

"She couldn't help herself after watching all of your hand skills, huh?" He continued, jogging up beside me.

"You need to stop." I picked up my pace a substantial amount.

If I ran long and hard enough he wouldn't be able to find breath enough to speak. Additionally, I had a crazy amount of sexual frustration that I needed to run out.

"You don't have to tell me all of the dirty details, although they would be much appreciated, but you can at least tell me that I am the hottest and most successful Jew Cupid, of all time." Puck complimented himself, matching my pace.

His breathing was starting to become labored, and I ran even harder to speed up the process.

More than anything, I wanted him to drop the topic. I didn't want to lie to him. _Not him. _

"No more, Puck. I'm being serious here. Shut up. And don't talk to anyone else about it either. Including Mercedes." I snapped.

"Damn. Now I know that you_ didn't_ get laid." He sputtered out his voice shaking from the bounce of his strides.

I didn't respond. I sent him one of my quintessential death stares instead.

"Okay I'm done. But, you're playing Halo with me tonight, and next Friday you are not skipping the party." He demanded.

"I hate that game." I whined, but I was still relieved that he was going to drop the topic.

Puck always kicked my ass at it, and his victory dances made me want to throw the controller at his crotch.

"Yup, don't care." He chuckled to himself.

That was the last thing he was able to get out during our run. Guess I was playing some stupid Halo tonight. _Oh well, I owed it to him._

I was partially disappointed because I had wanted to spend more time with Quinn, but then again, some distance would probably be a good thing after the stunt she had pulled before I left the house.

* * *

When I returned from my exceedingly strenuous run, I searched the downstairs for the source of my frustration, but had no luck.

Eventually, I climbed the stairs, patting dry the sweat that had accumulated on my face with a towel that I had retrieved from a bathroom downstairs.

"Quinn?" I called from the top landing of the steps.

I thought that maybe she had to run home for something, because although there was no sign of her, her car and purse were still here.

"Mmhmm. I'm in here." She answered from my room.

I pushed through my partially opened bedroom door with my hip, running the towel along my arms as I did so.

She was chewing on a pen, sitting at my desk with her History book open in front of her. She must have retrieved her school stuff from her car at some point during my run.

My willpower was definitely grateful that she had put her shirt back on.

"You're such a dork, Fabray." I teased. She _was_ studying on a Saturday afternoon, after all.

Quinn averted her gaze from her book to shoot me a glare, but the expression froze on her flawless features. An audible breath escaped her lips, and her eyes roamed my form unabashedly.

The unadulterated hunger in those hazel eyes took my breath away. Before I could discover how to inhale again, she had vacated her chair.

She shoved me back onto my bed, my knees bending with the hit from the mattress. Her mouth on mine cut my moan short, as she climbed on top of me.

The kiss was rough, and it set every nerve in my body on fire. All of the sexual frustration I had managed to alleviate during my run was back, tenfold.

Our tongues danced a turbulent tango, and the intensity only increased from there.

My hands travelled down her back seeking the ass that had driven me wild for years, but strong hands captured my wrists before I could reach my destination. She swung my arms up, pinning my wrists on either side of my head, separating her mouth from mine.

My blonde vixen slinked down my body. My stomach flipped repeatedly in anticipation.

Whatever she was planning on doing, I was sure as hell in no position to stop her. Not that I questioned my ability to free myself from her hands, but rather, I was running on empty in the self-control department.

I attempted to watch her expression as her face hovered over my stomach, but it was shielded by golden hair. Her head dipped down, and my muscles twitched as her tongue made contact with my skin. Excruciatingly slow, she traced every line of my abs with her tongue as I writhed beneath her.

"Quinn." I moaned her name for the very first time in her presence, and her nails drove deeply into the skin of my palms in response.

"I've wanted to do this all summer." She husked over my skin, and I clenched my thighs together, aching for some sort of friction.

I would lying if I said I hadn't noticed her eyes on me on occasion during cheer practice, but of course in my typical imbecile style, I had written it off.

It was still surreal for me to hear all of these confessions from her, but it was surreal in the best possible way.

She found a particularly sensitive spot on my stomach above my left hip, and swirled her tongue over it, before sucking down, hard.

"Oh, fuck." I cursed, trying to keep my hips as still as I could in order to prevent myself from bucking her off of me.

"I love the way you sound." She responded with a low hum, sucking on a neighboring area.

_Oh god. Oh god. _

_ Her voice. _

"I need to shower." I whined, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as she continued.

"But I'm _really_ enjoying the way your skin tastes right now." She released one of my hands, pushing her hair back from her face, peering up at me with a cunning smile.

She could never doubt my attraction to her. Not after this. Of that, I was sure. Might as well call me Santana Putty Lopez, because that is exactly what I was in her hands.

"Okay, now I _really_ need to shower." I asserted, escaping from the grip of her other hand, wrapping my arms around her, and rolling her over on the bed.

_And I did. I needed the coldest fucking shower of my life. _

I almost moaned at the wanton look in her eyes when I rolled on top her. I abruptly dismounted, beelining it into my bathroom.

"Can I come?" She begged playfully from her position on the bed.

_Yes. In fact I want you to, over and over again. I'll even help. _

"No. Not invited." I shut her down as firmly as I could manage to do so, steadying myself on the door as soon as I closed it behind me.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

"What are you smiling about? You never smile this much on Wednesdays." Brittany inquired, walking with me to our locker after Cheerios practice.

Santana was flanking Brittany's other side, and she peered around the tall blonde with a knowing smile in my direction. I loved that I didn't have to curse the butterflies that she gave me anymore.

"My parents usually drag me to church for hours on Wednesday nights, you know that, B." I admitted.

It usually put me in a sour mood. I could only tolerate playing the perfectly chaste and pious daughter for so long.

"Are they letting you off the hook tonight or something?" She probed further.

"Um, yeah, maybe." I lied, realizing that I had explained why Wednesdays aren't my favorite days, but I hadn't explained my constant smiling.

I was smiling because I was happy. It sounds stupid, but it's true.

The last five days had been amazing. Although Santana had to hang out with Puck on Saturday night, I was able to escape from my parents on Sunday afternoon after church to work on homework with my unrelenting addiction.

_Okay,_ we didn't get much homework done, but we did do research of another variety. She discovered a place on my collarbone that her mouth feels _oh so_ good on, and I found a spot behind her ear that instantly makes her eyes darken. _Successful day, I would say._

I was very much enjoying taking our "time" as Santana would say, because this particular exploration process was mind blowing, but now that she was mine, I wanted to experience all of her. I wanted her with _every_ fiber of my being.

I almost felt bad about jumping her after her run on Saturday, but I _had_ expressed my discomfort before she left, and she still had the nerve to remain uncovered when she returned with her abs all glistening and irresistible.

I could still remember the salty sweet taste of her hot skin on my tongue. I could only imagine how amazing other parts of her would taste.

I _was_ nervous about taking things further. Especially when Santana was known as lesbian lover extraordinaire, but her reactions to my attentions so far had certainly helped my confidence.

On the other hand, being at school with her the past couple of days was often agonizing. It was typically difficult to refrain from touching her, but add in her playful smiles, knowing glances, and purposeful brushes against me, and it was brutal. I had practically attacked her on Monday as soon as we had crossed the threshold of her front door. She didn't seem to mind, however.

The other two parts of the Unholy Trinity separated from me once I reached my locker in order to go to their own lockers. I had wished at times that I had the locker next to Santana rather than Brittany having it, but it was probably better for my willpower that I did not.

When I turned around after retrieving my books for my next class, I saw Kurt and Rachel chatting by their lockers on the other side of the hallway. I was going to smile at them in greeting, but they weren't looking in my direction.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched in trepidation as two guys from the baseball team charged purposely through the crowd, each with one large slushie cup. They were headed straight for my socially unfortunate friends.

_No!_

Santana and Brittany were walking back in my direction, when they both noticed the alarmed expression on my face.

Santana's eyes narrowed, following my gaze as I turned my attention back to the impending mess.

Kurt and Rachel would probably never believe how much Santana secretly cared for them.

I watched as her eyes darkened with something other than lust for the first time in days.

She didn't hesitate. Santana changed her path immediately, strutting in the direction of the two jocks instead, shifting her books over to one hand.

It appeared as though she was going to walk right past the two jerks, but she extended her leg at the last minute instead, tripping the taller boy. With her free hand she swung hard, bumping the bottom of his slushie cup, and popping the blue slushie all over his face and letterman's jacket.

A sense of relief washed over me immediately. I didn't want to see my friends tortured. I had been ready to shout at the two guys, but I hadn't been sure how effective that would have been.

Santana was definitely sending a clearer message, in any case.

The taller guy didn't regain his balance as he slipped on the portion of the slushie that had landed by his feet, falling onto the mess, sliding with a thunk into the lockers.

My lips curved into a smile at Santana's brand of sweet justice.

"Crouching Latina Hidden Dragon." Brittany recited, flashing a smile at me.

I wondered if anyone had told Santana about those nicknames.

It was then that I blushed, as I recalled Sugar's nickname for Santana.

The other baseball player had taken a few steps back from the scene.

"You're gonna wanna give that to me." She gestured to his cup, beckoning his compliance with her middle and ring finger.

He grimaced, handing her the cup in slow apprehension, while his friend was struggling to pull himself up from the floor by a lock on one of the lockers.

I glanced over to Kurt and and Rachel. Both divas had their mouths open as they watched the scene unfold.

Other traffic in the hallway had practically come to a complete stop.

Santana's practiced hand threw the second slushie all over the second guy, smashing the cup into his chest for him to grab when he was done. This was one was red.

"Did you batheads not get the memo? Those two are off limits. Understand?" She checked each guy's face for confirmation.

The first boy had finally found footing enough to stand and he was the first to nod.

_Fuck, she's hot. _

The second boy took a beat longer, clearly in shock from the freezing cold of the slushie. He nodded, sputtering while some of the red escaped from his lips, grasping the cup tightly to his chest.

"Good. Best see that you remember that." She warned, and strode past both of them, and away from us as well, making her typical dramatic exit.

_That's my girl._

I still couldn't quite believe it.

As she disappeared around the corner, taking my heart and my ovaries with her, Brittany and I moved to check on Rachel and Kurt.

Kurt was checking his argyle pants carefully for any sign of slush, smiling triumphantly once he was finished doing so.

"Are you two okay?" I asked, part of me wishing that I had followed Santana instead, but I was all kinds of positive that I wouldn't have been able to keep my hands off of her had I done so.

"I don't think we have enough time in high school left to get use to that." Kurt shook his head in disbelief, acknowledging us with his smile, but Rachel was still staring after Santana.

I could tell that he was referring to being under Santana's protection. Two years ago, I would have never guessed that Santana would be so protective over the girl who always put stars next to her name, and the boy who often made peacocks look like subdued creatures.

Brittany was brushing some stray slush off of Rachel's shoulder as the smaller girl continued to peer down the hallway.

The expression on her face made me want to _vom_.

"I kissed a girl and I liked it." The tiny brunette swooned in a dreamy state.

_Bitch. _

I tried not to overtly glare at her but suddenly I wished that there was an extra slushie around.

Brittany recoiled immediately from Rachel's shoulder.

"Ew." This time the tall blonde gave the word more punch than she did on Prom night.

"Goodness Rachel, close your mouth. You're dating my brother." Kurt chastised with a grimace on his porcelain features.

"She saved us." She breathed, finally tearing her eyes away to look at Kurt.

"Yes she did, but she probably would think twice about doing so again if she could see your face right now. _Fix your face_." He ordered, laughing through the disgusted look on his own features.

_She better fix it. Or I'll fix it for her. _

"Glad you two are okay." I offered simply, removing myself from the scene to go to class, very much needing to leave that conversation behind me.

I busied my mind by brainstorming ways I could get Santana alone ASAP.

Santana was such a sweet badass. The perfect combination, in my opinion.

She would probably kill me if I told her how great it was of her to save Rachel and Kurt like that from being slushied.

Good thing I didn't need to use words to show her exactly how great I thought it was.

** I'm gonna need for you to find a way to leave class to meet me in the choir room at 9:15. I want to feel your HBIC tongue on mine like you wouldn't believe. **

I sent the text with a smile, picturing what her face would look like when she read it.

I was falling hard, and there was no ground in sight.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter XXX**

**A/N: Wow, I can't believe that I'm posting chapter 30 already and that this story is nearing 600 reviews. That's crazy. I never expected anything close to that when I started this adventure. **

**Thank you all, I couldn't have done it without my amazingly awesome readers. Oh, and special thanks to all of my new Tumblr followers and to Sukerpunch94 for getting me hooked to Tumblr in the first place.**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

It was one of those amazing teacher "skill building" half days, which meant I had three wonderful extra hours with Santana Lopez.

I was reveling in every minute we were able to spend away from the rest of the world. Her house had become our sanctuary. _My sanctuary._

Here, I didn't have to be careful about whether I stared just a little too long, whether I stood just a little too close, or whether I laughed just a little too loud.

We could just be us, and I _loved_ us.

It was almost our one month anniversary, and I didn't know the protocol for when one is involved in a secret lesbian relationship with her best friend. I wasn't sure if Santana was even going to acknowledge it. I wasn't sure if you were supposed to acknowledge a one month anniversary period.

_Would she think I was a complete cheeseball if I said anything about it? _

I vaguely recall Finn getting me something for our one month, but whatever it was it certainly wasn't memorable. I never used to care about this crap. That ball was always in the guys' court, and I only bothered with how celebrating an anniversary would help my social status. If receiving flowers were going to make me seem more desirable, then I was all for it.

But, this wasn't like that. Nothing about our relationship was for appearances. It was all ours and no one else's.

I wanted to tell Santana that this had been the best month of my life.

And that is even_ with_ the ridiculous amount of sexual frustration.

_Seriously,_ I had thought that the whole cold shower thing was an exaggeration or something that only boys going through puberty needed to do, but I was _so_ wrong.

The Vagina Whisperer herself hadn't even taken off my bra yet. _Not even kidding_.

I felt like I was 14-year-old Noah Puckerman, begging for every extra inch of skin, and permission to touch each new place. It was slightly pathetic.

Just sitting on the couch with her right now, with my legs draped over her lap, studying her as she watched some stupid show about fairies or some shit, I wanted to jump her bones.

She was wearing a hoodie for _fuckssake_, it wasn't even as if she was wearing anything remotely revealing.

She was drumming her hands absent-mindedly just above my knee, as she stared at the screen. It always made my skin tingle with each impact, as I attempted to predict what her hands were going to do next.

"I love it when you do that." I admitted.

I _really_ did. Sometimes, I even thought about asking her to do it, because of the way it made me feel when she would do so.

It made me feel oddly safe, and calm, and I relished in being able to feel the beats that were going on somewhere in her wonderful subconscious.

Her hands stilled on my legs.

_Don't you hate it when people do that? You tell them that you love something, like their singing voice, and they stop singing. _ _It's bullshit._

She tore her eyes from the television, and I saw something severe in her gaze.

"I love…that you love it when I do that." She stopped herself part way through, before making a not-so-smooth recovery. There was a tinge of embarrassment in the smile she gave me.

It sounded almost like a question. My heart fluttered at the start.

_Was she hanging on the edge? Or had she gone into complete free fall like me?_

I knew that she cared for me deeply. It was obvious after all of those truths of hers, and looking back through the last few years, and definitely after this past month. But she had yet to say the words.

It almost felt like she had shot me through this cannon, propelling me miles upon miles ahead, and now I was left to wait for her to catch up on foot.

She was one amazing love and sex tease, I'd give her that.

"Then why did you stop?" I asked, although what I really wanted to ask was what she was actually going to say before she stopped herself.

"I know just about everything turns you on these days, Q." She winked at me flashing me that sideways smile of hers.

I glared at her. This was becoming a very sensitive topic between the two of us, both literally and figuratively, and in my opinion, she should know better than to joke around about it by now.

Well, if there is one thing that I know how to do, it's how to play the game.

"I'm well aware, and so is my battery budget." I returned her smile with a kink of my eyebrow, after my initial glare.

The expression on her face was priceless. Her parted mouth indicated shock, but her eyes were pure desire.

"Bullshit. There's no way that Quinn Fabray owns a vibrator." She challenged, while she very noticeably attempted to regulate her expression.

"Wanna bet? It was a super awkward "congratulations on not being pregnant anymore" gift from Brittany. But it has certainly come in handy lately…" I elaborated, propping myself up onto my elbows.

I knew I was putting my hand directly into the fire, but if it would lead to me being able to put my hand in another heated place, I was willing to take the chance.

"I kinda hate you right now." She rasped, her eyes burning straight into me.

I was obsessed with that voice of hers. I could listen to it all day.

"I could bring it over with me sometime. You could watch." I cocked a suggestive eyebrow, trailing my fingertips down her wrist, to her knuckles, traversing the length of her fingers.

"You're not playing fair." Her voice was still raspy but this version was a tad more breathy than the last.

"I'm not playing. Santana, in all seriousness, I've known you for forever. I don't understand what we are waiting for." I sighed. It wasn't as if I was even remotely tired of or bored with our make out sessions, but I wanted more.

My hand wandered off of the side of her hand, and onto her upper thigh. She was wearing sweatpants, but the touch still made her breath hitch.

"We only get to experience this phase with each other once, babe." Santana argued, capturing my wandering hand in hers.

That was a first. She had never called me babe before. It sounded so much better when she said it than when Puck says it.

I was attempting to affect her composure, but it was backfiring. The desire in her eyes and voice were definitely getting to me.

"But I'm _so_ over this phase." I whined, ignoring the twitch of my heart that came with her term of endearment.

"I've fantasized about sex with you since I first found out what sex was. You are quite literally everything that I've ever wanted." She fixed her eyes on mine as she exposed her heart to me.

I fought back one of those cliché happy sighs at her words.

I sat up, balancing myself awkwardly half on and half off of her lap, wrapping my hand around her neck to both anchor myself and to bring her lips to mine.

She wrapped her arms around me as we kissed, remedying my awkward seating situation by hauling me effortlessly onto her lap.

"No pressure or anything…nope, none at all." I teased, leaving a kiss on her chin.

I may have used a light hearted tone but it _was_ a ton of pressure. Santana had over a decade worth of feelings for me, and that was a lot to live up to.

Perhaps that was part of the reason why I wanted to make love to her sooner rather than later. I felt as though the more time that passed, the more build there would be, and the more expectations she would have.

_What if my body falls short of her imagination? _

_What if I'm not capable of pleasing her? _

_What if I'm just really bad at girl on girl sex? _

"Don't be ridiculous. Everything with you so far has been so much better than any fantasy. And I promise you, we _will_ have sex before you lose the ability to self-lubricate." She brought me away from my dark thoughts with a smile that was just inches away from my own lips.

"You went from sweet to absolutely disgusting. Why am I not surprised?" I shook my head at my gorgeous girlfriend.

"You're not surprised because you know me better than anyone else." She responded as if it was nothing significant. _But, it was._

_It's what I always wanted. To know her better than anyone else did._

Three little words were constantly on the tip of my tongue lately. She hadn't run from me yet, not since that day in my driveway, and yet I was petrified to my very core that those words could push her away.

"Well that explains my constant misery lately." I joked with a straight face.

"Oh shut up, you love it." She rolled her eyes, and poked one of her thumbs into my back.

_There's that word again. _

"Okay, I do. But, ugh, we should go get ready for school." I nuzzled my head into her shoulder, inhaling deeply of the skin of her neck. I would much rather spend the day in her lap, just like this.

"Not yet. We have at least a good twenty minutes of make out time, and it's a necessary evil to get me through another day of pretending that my hot ass girlfriend is just a friend." She pulled me closer to her, and I draped my arms around her neck.

I landed a kiss on her jaw with a contented smile. I would never tire of hearing her call me her girlfriend.

"You just like to ensure that I'm turned on for you the whole day." I countered, wondering just how aware she was of what she did to me.

"As if I need to try." _Okay, she was obviously at least somewhat aware._ Her lips spread in one of her cocky smiles, and I decided to kiss that cocky smile right off of her face.

* * *

I gave in, of course, to the Santana's seductive mouth, and she had been right. We still had time to get ready for school.

I hit a road bump, however. The outfit I had brought over for the day made me feel so _not_ good about myself. I was staring into the floor length mirror in her room with a disgusted look on my face when Santana strolled into her room, toting a bagel.

"You're batshit crazy." She scolded me.

"What?" My eyes were still fixed on the unsatisfying image in the mirror.

"You think I don't know that look, Q? It isn't a fucking clownhouse mirror, which means that you must be hallucinating if you are having even a single negative thought about the way you look. Thus, you're batshit crazy." She explained passionately, and almost earned a smile from me.

"Thanks, San." I sighed, turning away from the mirror, refusing the bagel with a wave of my hand when she attempted to give it to me.

_Bitch is always trying to feed me. _

_Wow, this sexual frustration is making me mean. _

"No. Don't brush this off. Listen to me. I'll find you an outfit that I've never worn to school if that will make you feel better somehow, but either way, you are _beautiful_." She conveyed such emotion into the chaste kiss she gave me to punctuate her point that I swore that my feet left the ground momentarily.

We had decided weeks ago that wearing each other's clothes to school probably was a dead giveaway of how many nights we were spending together. It was pretty annoying, because sharing clothes should be a huge perk of dating someone who is of a similar size.

Although, I didn't have the confidence for many of her clothing items anyway. There was no way I was wearing any of her skintight dresses, but I was more than pleased on the days that she chose to wear them.

Today was a day of firsts. _First babe, and now beautiful. _ She had never called me beautiful before. She would tell me that I looked good, or that I was hot or sexy, but she had never called me beautiful. Suddenly, I didn't care which fucking outfit I was in.

"How much time do we have?" I pleaded with anxious eyes.

"Nada." She responded, as she took note of the heat in my gaze.

"Fine. Then you're driving, and I hope you can do so while my lips are on your neck." I demanded.

I knew that she could. Santana was a fantastic multi-tasker.

"You better eat this bagel before we make it down to the car then." She ordered back, and I snatched the bagel from her with a pout before we headed out of her room.

I was going to have to start attending her Saturday Puck runs at the rate this woman was making me eat.

* * *

For Glee Club, Mr. Schue was away at some sort of off-Broadway audition, leaving our dysfunctional family to manage ourselves once again.

Berry insisted on leading the session, yet again, but I was far too focused on the brunette next to me to care.

_And she thinks __**I'm**__ beautiful?_

I tried to be sly about the way my eyes scanned her flawless skin, and the graceful slope of her neck. I was a goner.

"For Sectionals this year, we need to stick to what works. Nationals taught us a very important lesson about what happens when we stray from the proven formula of success." Berry dictated in her know-it-all tone.

"Now I know you aren't suggesting that our loss had anything to do with allowing people other than you and Finn to have solos…" Mercedes interrupted in her usual dramatic manner.

"Actually Mercedes, I am merely correctly asserting that we took too many risks." There was more than one sigh to be heard in the room at Rachel's response. Most of us were tired of hashing out the same argument.

"The only incorrect risk that was taken was your Ogre's oafish decision to eat your face instead of his usual mountain of Sloppy Joe's." Santana snarked from beside me.

I loved it when she used alliteration for her insults. Especially now that they weren't directed toward me. And she was right, we would have won if it hadn't been for Finn.

"Why don't you just shut up for once, Santana?" Finn growled, crossing his obscenely long arms over his torso.

_Whoa, does he really expect her to stand down? Idiot. Don't poke the bear. _

"I will not." Santana refused with a sassy sway of her head. "Dwarf here, at least has the pipes. It's understandable that she gets some of the spotlight at our competitions, but there is no reason why you should have solo time when there are so many talented guys in this room. Not to mention, you will have a far lesser chance of fucking everything up for the rest of us, if you just sway like a good palm tree in the back where you belong." She pointed to Rachel before demonstrating a swaying palm tree with her hands.

I loved the way her head moved when she was illustrating an example.

Finn went into Frankenteen Hulk mode and kicked his chair backwards as he hoisted himself upwards, eliciting an alarmed gasp from Rachel, and stunned expressions from around the room.

_Uh oh. _

I instinctively scooted my chair closer to Santana's, not that she needed my protection.

"You are constantly flapping that slutty mouth of yours, Santana, but you don't get that no one in here cares what you have to say. You're just a bitch, and that's all you will ever be." He insulted, pushing his large hands forcefully but awkwardly into the pockets of his jeans as if he didn't know what to do with them during an angry rant.

_Oh no he didn't._

Brittany and I simultaneously placed a hand on each of Santana's shoulders. Our fingers almost touched when we did so, but in that moment, I didn't care that Santana's ex fuckbuddy was touching her. I just hope that it helped somehow.

I sought to both comfort her with my touch, and prevent her from doing the damage to Finn that she had wanted to do for years.

I put on my best HBIC eyes, glaring over at the teen giant, in hopes that he would stop his little fit before he got hurt.

"You're jealous that Rachel and I have something that you'll never even be capable of understanding. No matter how many times you spread your legs, no one will ever want you for more than that. Your own father doesn't even want you. He's so disgusted by you that…" His unfiltered outburst was dripping in loathing for Santana, and his face was scrunched up in equal revulsion.

_Mother fucker. _

I was on my way out of my own chair when Puck launched on Finn before Finn could finish his sentence. Puck gripped the taller boy by his collar roughly, yanking Finn's face close to his own.

"Shut the fuck up. Right now. You're my bro, Finn, but if you make me choose I will choose her in a heartbeat, and I will lay you the fuck out." Puck threatened, and I couldn't recall a time where I heard him use such a dangerous tone.

Finn didn't say anything, he just stood stunned, glancing down at his friend's hands that had a vice grip on his collar, before the mohawked man shoved Finn roughly back in the direction of his tossed choir chair.

I sat back down in my own chair, flashing a worried look in Santana's direction, confident that Puck was taking care of the situation on the other side of the room.

Santana was completely still. She wasn't looking at Finn, her eyes were forward, and obviously distant.

In that moment, I didn't care that we were in a room full of people, I intertwined my fingers with hers, squeezing her hand firmly in attempt to bring her back to me.

"She is constantly tearing all of us down. Why the hell would you defend her?" Finn shouted, gesturing widely to everyone in the room.

He was just background noise to me at this point. I was silently begging for Santana to look at me, watching in helpless terror as she shut down. Brittany had her arm around Santana's waist at this point, and I assumed it was because she was feeling the same distance that I was.

"Excuse me while I interject during this testosterone fueled exchanged, but you're the odd man out here on this Finn." Kurt interrupted with a frown, having turned his chair in Finn's direction.

"Yeah, that was not okay, Finn." Tina agreed, scowling at Finn before softening her face to glance over in concern in Santana's direction.

"Definite dick move." Mike added. He had also moved onto his feet at some point during the altercation.

"I can't believe you went there." Mercedes scolded, her face contorted in disbelief.

"You should probably leave." Sugar suggested matter-of-factly.

"That might be for the best, Finn." Rachel advised from the front of the room. She looked so sad, and so disappointed.

_Geez, did everyone know what happened between Santana and her father? Stupid gossipy office ladies. _

Finn must have found out somehow at least. As for the rest of them, I didn't know how much they knew or if they just got the gist of how deep Finn's insults went by Puck's reaction.

"What is this, the Cheerios? You guys are just going to follow her like a bunch of sheep? All _I_ did was say what everyone has been thinking for years." He lowered the volume of his voice slightly, but the reaction of the room seemed to only fuel his anger and frustration.

"I will cut a bitch." Brittany warned loudly enough for the room to hear, but she didn't take her eyes off of her injured friend.

I was at my breaking point. I detached my hand from Santana's and crossed the room to stand by Puck in front of Finn.

"I think what Brittany means to say is that Santana is a real leader, while you just happened to be the first popular person to fall into this club. Rachel had the talent and the drive and all you had to add to this club was your letterman's jacket and your relationship with me. And guess what, genius, on top of your typical buffoonery, you've just managed to piss us all off. You have no idea what you're talking about when it comes to Santana. And if I _ever_ hear you talk about her like that again, I will make your last few months here a living hell." I threatened, and I was deadly serious about it.

I would destroy any status that he still had in this school, and I would make sure that he was so uncomfortable in this little town that he now longer desired to stay here for the rest of his pathetic life.

With that, Finn finally stormed out of the room.

I exhaled, and Puck gave me a strange pat on my back. I watched as some of the tension left his shoulders. I wanted to hug him for what he did for her, but somehow I could tell that he understood. His eyes conveyed a similar gratitude towards me as the gratitude I felt toward him.

All eyes seemed to focus on my obviously uncomfortable girlfriend. And it took her far longer than it normally would with her observant nature to notice.

"Thanks everyone, really. But, could we move on with the Sectionals discussion?" I could tell that she was struggling to keep her voice steady.

I crossed the room again to return to her. She had shrugged Brittany off at some point, but her eyes were fixed again on some unknown point in the room.

I wanted to kill Finn.

Wordlessly, Santana left the room five minutes later. Brittany immediately rose to follow her friend and I saw movement out of the corner of my eye that I assumed was Puck doing something similar.

"I'll go." I gestured with my hands for the two of them to stay.

Brittany stared at me for a moment, seemingly still adjusting to the semi-recent development of Santana's and I's closeness.

"Text me to let me know she's okay?" She requested quietly.

"Of course, Brit." I nodded, and quickly made my way out of the room.

Santana was nowhere to be found in the hallway. I couldn't begin to guess on how many different levels Finn's words must have impacted Santana. I knew her daddy issues went deep, but the other portion of what he had said, about no one ever wanting Santana for anything other than sex surely hit a sensitive area within her as well.

Suddenly, her delaying of our sex life made sense. I was sure that the logical part of her didn't believe that it was all I wanted her for, but deep seated fears like that didn't operate under the rules of logic.

It was a fear that she had raised during our shittastic conversation in NYC. At the time, I had figured it was just her bullshit way of pushing me away. But I _had_ used sex as an excuse the first night I ever kissed her.

And I knew that I wasn't the first person to try to use her for sex. Although, it was never actually like that for me. I was just confused about what I was starting to feel for my oldest friend.

I decided to go check the parking lot, because it was unlikely that Santana would have left without me since we drove together that day.

Sure enough, I found her in the backseat of her car, her knees pulled tightly to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them. It was a heartbreaking sight.

I climbed in the other side of the backseat, and Santana only looked vaguely surprised to see me.

"He's wrong. He's so fucking wrong." I told her baring my teeth slightly, as soon as I closed the door behind me.

She averted her gaze to the back windshield. It didn't appear as though she had been crying, but it was clear that my ex-boyfriend had done some real harm.

"Are you sure about that?" She whispered, tugging her knees in even tighter to her chest.

"Yes. I've never been more sure of anything. Did you not see how that _entire_ room rallied to your defense? They wouldn't do that for the girl that Finn described. You're not her." I assured her, shifting my head in hopes of her eyes meeting mine, but to no avail.

There was a barely noticeable shake of her head, as she shifted her gaze to her shoes.

I sighed, taking a moment to contemplate how I was going to get through to her. _How did this girl not know how amazing she is? _

"You have bark, and one hell of a bite, but you're so much more than that. You are a far better friend than you realize, and you are so fucking selfless. You do so much for other people with no expectation of credit or recognition. Like what you did for Kurt by taking Sadie to Prom-yes, I know about that-or what you did for me by secretly campaigning for me to get Queen. Or how you saved Rachel and Kurt from getting slushied, and walked away before they could even thank you. Or how you sneakily give people water and pills after a rough night of drinking. Or how you allowed me to score the winning touchdown in the Powderpuff game. Or how you bribed JewFro to hack into the system to make sure that Brittany and Puck were on track to graduate. You are so much more than your insanely good looks, and your sex appeal, Santana." I placed my hands on her knees as I listed a handful of examples of what made her the sort of person that she was.

Her eyes finally rose to mine, and I smiled softly at the accomplishment. She appeared to be quite shocked that I knew about so many of her carefully hidden gestures.

"I want to be the person that you see in me, Q." She expressed, resting her hands over mine on her knees.

"But you _are_ that person Santana, and I know firsthand that you are wanted for far more than what you can provide in a bedroom…I know that because I _love_ you." Something unrecognizable flashed in her brown eyes at my confession, while I was sure some form of panic was flashing on my features.

_Okay, well that was unplanned. _

I held my breath, as she moved my hands off of her knees, rolling forward onto those same knees, to bring her face to mine. She cradled my neck in her hands, kissing me with a tenderness reminiscent of how she kissed me that fateful night on the porch during her Prom after party. I had thought that _that_ kiss was powerful, and meaningful, and a moment of true realization for me of how deep my feelings were for Santana.

But this kiss was somehow more. We were familiar with each other's mouths at this point, and it only heightened our ability to move in sync with one another. I was consumed once again by the taste of her strawberry lip gloss, her tropical fruit scent, and the all too welcome sensation of her expert tongue on mine.

"I can't begin to count how many times you have saved me from myself, Q." She breathed as we parted, her thumbs gliding along the skin beneath my jaw, giving me chills.

I was more than happy to be the savior of someone who was constantly saving others.

I had said the three words that had been on my mind for weeks now, and she hadn't bolted out of the car and into the traffic of the highway. I mean, she hadn't said them back…but it was a start.

I brought the inside of my lower lip in between my teeth in disappointment. I had to remember that while I had been projected miles ahead in the air, she was walking behind me. Hopefully if I stood here long enough she would reach me eventually, but I was afraid that I would be launched miles away again before she did so.

I could feel her eyes analyzing my expression.

"Yup, definitely batshit crazy." She confirmed, laughing unaffectedly near my lips, and I narrowed my eyes at her immediately in frustration.

"And here I thought that I was the oblivious one. Even when I hated you, I loved you, Q." She tilted her forehead into mine and I closed my eyes at the touch of her skin on mine.

It wasn't exactly how I had wanted to hear it by any means, but beggars can't be choosers, I supposed. It still sent quite the rush to my heart, in any case.

I didn't know what I had expected. She had been getting better about discussing her feelings with me but she had a huge amount of emotional catching up to do.

"How romantic." I rolled my eyes, smiling faintly.

"You want me to say it another way?" Santana tilted her forehead back, taking a stab at what I was feeling.

She had peered into my soul again, reading me like one of her political books.

I nodded.

_Yes, desperately._

"I am completely, hopelessly, and undeniably in love with you, Quinn Fabray." She emphasized each word, taking her time with each syllable as her eyes held mine.

My heart didn't flutter, instead it felt like it had grown giant wings that were threatening to beat their way straight out of my chest.

_She is such a fucking breath thief. _

_It was her third first of the day._

Still, despite my euphoria, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"You're waiting for me to say something snarky or gross to negate that aren't you? Well don't hold your breath, I'm not going to say that I want to wear your face or anything." She laughed that perfect laugh of hers, and I managed to smile through the intense pounding in my chest.

"Except you _kinda_ just did, psycho." I returned in jest.

I didn't care that she had made a joke after saying some of the most important words that I have ever heard from her or from anyone really. I loved that she did shit like that all the time. I loved _her_.

"It was just an example!" She defended, her grin matching the wide grin on my own face.

"Uh huh, sure. Now can you please take us back to your place so we can dry hump with our clothes on like a couple of freshmen." I teased, but I was serious.

I needed to kiss every part of that face that I was so in love with.

"I love it when you talk dirty." She winked at me, climbing through the front seats to slide behind the driver's seat without any further hesitation.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter XXXI**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I tossed my weekend bag down by the staircase with a relieved smile. For once, I didn't have to come up with an excuse as to why I needed to stay at Santana's. My parents were at a church retreat all weekend in Indiana, and that meant uninterrupted time with my girlfriend.

_My favorite sort of time._

Usually if I attended dinner a couple times a week, and if I went to church like a dutiful daughter should, then my mom didn't ask too many questions. But I still felt obligated to say _something_ before disappearing for the night.

My father was another story. I had to play him differently than my mother. He had the same dinner and church expectations as my mom, but he required more maintenance. He wasn't usually around when it came time for me to offer an excuse, because he spent most of his home time in his study, but there was one night where he had made my mother call me to force me to come home when he found out where I was staying. I made more of an effort to talk about how well I was doing in school and with cheerleading during dinners with him after that, and threw in a few "daddy"s for good measure. It seemed to be working, because he hadn't done anything like that since.

Better yet, not only were my parents not even in the same state this weekend, it was also a bye week for football. That meant I was able to spend a Friday night with Santana without having to spend most of it at an after game party or stuck on some bus coming back from an away game.

I had been planning to head home straight from school, pack a couple things, and shoot immediately over to her place, but when I had mentioned doing so, Santana had claimed to have a few errands to run before I could come over.

I hadn't wanted to be the clingy girlfriend and ask her why I couldn't tag along, so I tried to play it casual instead. Lately, she had been really good about calling me out when I was attempting to hide my feelings, but today for some reason, she didn't say anything. It was almost disappointing.

I didn't need to spend every minute with her or anything, but we didn't have near as many private moments together as I needed. Even if it would have been just driving around with her to different places, I could have at least been able to hold her hand in the car.

I was being stupid, I know.

_I've got the gift of one liners  
And you've got the curse of curves_

_Oh honey, you definitely have both. _

I could hear Santana singing from somewhere on the first floor, and I followed the sound of her sultry voice through the foyer. With her music on and her vocal instrumentation, she probably didn't even hear me come in.

_And with this gift I compose words  
And the question that comes forward  
Are you perspiring from the irony  
Or sweating to these lyrics  
And this just in  
You're a dead fit  
But my wit won't allow it_

Upon my entrance to the kitchen, I was very, _very_ okay with the fact that she didn't hear me come in.

_Her bone structure screams  
"Touch her! Touch her!"_

She was bent over in front of the fridge, and her round ass was just begging to escape from her exceedingly form fitting solid blue dress.

"You could take a picture you know." She laughed into the shelves, spinning around slowly with a large container of liquid in her hand.

_How did she even know I was here? Was I breathing heavily at the sight of her or something? _

If she already knew that I was in the room, it was understandable that she would guess that my eyes were on her ass. She had started to notice the past month how appreciative I was of her rear end.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, shamelessly scanning her every curve with my eyes.

I may not have been able to touch every part of her that I so desired, but I could look. Especially when she was wearing _that_.

"My ass is yours, Q. If you like it so much, you're more than welcome to take a picture of it with that fancy camera of yours. Or any other part of me for that matter." She explained casually, pouring the beverage that she had retrieved from the fridge into two large wine glasses.

_God, this woman hasn't even fucked me yet and she knows how to play my libido like a professional musician. _

The idea of mixing one of my main passions, photography, with the person I am most passionate about, Santana, was almost too much to handle.

Not to mention that a small fire seemed to ignite within me every time she called herself or any part of herself mine.

I had been afraid to ask her to pose for me, but if she was offering, I was definitely going to take advantage of the opportunity.

"Any fully clothed part of you, you mean." I clarified, while I futilely attempted to bring my thoughts back to a more appropriate place.

"I did not make clothing a condition, but it is certainly an option." She tilted her head in the direction of her right shoulder, raising said shoulder a tad as she did so.

She was still playing this nonchalant game with me, pretending as if she didn't know exactly what it was doing to me.

The thought of a naked Santana in front of my lens made me practically dizzy.

I fumbled to find the counter with my hand in order to steady myself. I had to force myself to look away from her body that was on such tempting display, and I focused on the cupboards instead.

_Thank god she wasn't wearing that dress and saying those things at school today. _

**_Hold up._**

_She wasn't wearing that today at school, so why is she wearing it now? _

My eyes turned from hazel filled with longing to hazel filled with accusation.

"I thought you said we weren't going out tonight." I was cross, but there was definitely more than a touch of disappointment in my tone.

In fact, she had_ promised_ me that we weren't going out tonight. I couldn't remember the last time that I had a full evening with her to myself, and I was going to figuratively kick her ass if she made other plans without telling me.

Now that I was paying attention to more than how the dress hugged her body, I realized that she was _totally_ in a party outfit. She wore tight dresses to school relatively frequently, but this one was too short even by public school standards. Also, her makeup had _clearly _been reapplied.

I was fuming.

If she thought that I was going to go with her, then she had another thing coming. For one, if I tagged along I would spend the whole night pissed off at her, and for two, I hadn't packed any party clothes.

Today was one of the few days where I had been in the mood to wear jeans and a simple blouse, and I really couldn't hang around her all night in my current outfit with her looking like that.

"We're not." She corrected me simply, handing me one of the wine glasses.

"Then why are you dressed like that?" Skeptical of her response, I took the glass from her automatically.

"For you, babe. It's only for you." I clutched my wine glass a bit tighter as her voice lowered and she stepped toward me.

_My god. _

"You're dressed like _that,_ to spend the evening _in _with just me?" I reiterated, scanning her body once more.

She nodded, smirking at the roaming of my eyes.

"Do you want me to sit on the other end of the couch all night or do you really not expect me to try to touch you when you're wearing that?" I asked in all seriousness, closing the distance between us with one step more.

"Well we'll be spending the night In-ish…and there will be no couch involved." Santana responded mysteriously, her eyes focused on my movement as I stepped forward.

I needed to do _something_ with my mouth, so I took a sip from my glass.

"Apple juice?" I reacted in surprise, and she laughed softly.

"What, were you expecting wine? My mom found out about the club in NYC, because she finds out about _everything_, so I have to be careful for a while. I've been limiting the use of my Fake ID and 21+ connections to emergencies only." Her mouth was in motion to smile, but hesitated when she saw my face.

_Only Santana would have Fake ID and 21+ connection emergencies. _

"21+ connections, huh? Are these males or females?" I frowned, my little green monster was coming out to play again.

It was crazy how quickly the dynamic between us could change.

"Does it matter? I'm not trading sex for booze." Santana sipped her juice, clearly irritated with my line of questioning.

"You haven't had sex with any of them?" I probed, searching her brown eyes.

"Not in exchange for alcohol." She set her glass down with a shake of her head.

"Santana!" I exclaimed.

"What? I thought we weren't lying to each other." She defended, narrowing her eyes in frustration at me.

"That's so illegal. And gross. Why would you still talk to them?" I berated her, the juice almost sloshing out of my glass with the wild movement of my hand.

"I can't stop talking to every girl that I've hooked up with, Quinn." She sighed, her face contorted in disappointment.

_Because then you wouldn't have any girls to talk to at all? _

I held my tongue. After Finn's awful outburst earlier in the week, I was not about to twist that knife any deeper.

My girlfriend had a past, and I really needed to work harder on getting over that.

But, it didn't help that all of these girls had experienced Santana in a way that I had not.

I got it, we were taking things slow because I was different for her, and because we were different than any relationship either of us had had before, but it still bothered me.

"I know." I sighed myself, before forcing a deep breath.

This girl drove me crazy. But, with my deep inhale, I noticed that something smelled amazing.

"Are you cooking?" I inquired quietly.

"Quite the nose you have there, Detective Fabray." She mocked, but the irritation had not disappeared from her features.

"For me?" I asked even quieter.

She nodded.

I reached up with my free hand, squeezing the back of my neck in frustration with myself.

"Ugh, could you warn me next time when you're doing something sweet, and that way I won't bite your head off for something random and feel like an insensitive jerk after?" I gave her an apologetic look.

This woman always threw any hope of my composure out of the window. I was constantly going off before seeing the full picture.

"Where's the fun in that?" By her smile when she asked, my guess was that my pseudo apology was accepted.

"Can I help with something?" I glanced around the kitchen to see if there was anything that obviously could use my assistance.

If I had only taken the time to look around, the state of the kitchen would have made the fact that she was cooking quite obvious.

"Nah, I got this." Santana leaned forward to kiss my cheek before she went about her kitchen tasks.

Let's see here, my 17-year-old girlfriend could sing like a goddess, dance like a stripper (and I mean that in the best possible way), pass an AP US History exam without studying, kick the ass of pretty much everyone I could think of, write me three weeks of wonderful truths, do a standing backflip, naturally take command of a room, and she could _cook_. Just to name a few of her talents.

I was never going to find someone this incredible again. I never wanted to let her go.

Santana fetched something else from the fridge, a large bowl, before she moved to the oven to remove something else.

Before I knew it, she was walking past me and away from the kitchen with two full plates of food.

"Actually, would you grab my glass for me?" Santana requested.

_If it means following behind you when you walk like that in that dress, then yes I will grab it, and anything else you want me to grab. _

She slid the back porch door open with her foot, and I bristled slightly at the autumn air when I exited just after her. It wasn't freezing by any means, but if we were going to be outside for very long, I was going to need a sweater wrapped around me, or my secretive girlfriend.

"Where are we going?" I inquired curiously, as Santana walked barefoot down the porch steps and onto the hilly slope of her backyard.

_Picnic in the back yard?_ If that was the case, then she was just too cute.

The sun was still setting, so I had a pretty good view of the Lopez's huge yard. I swept my gaze along each tall wooden fence, and everything in the in between, but saw no sign of where she intended for us to eat.

"Patience is not exactly your strong suit, my love." She observed, and although I couldn't see her face, I knew she was smiling.

That was the first mention of "love" that either of us had made since the backseat of the car that day. My heart was instantly sent into overdrive. But I wasn't so far gone that I couldn't challenge her patience jab.

"My body would say that I've been very, _very_ patient." I husked, and Santana stilled in front of me.

I charted the direction of her gaze and I was stunned to see that there were pearl white drapes attached all around the bottom of the porch, illuminated by light emanating from somewhere within them.

I closed my mouth before asking yet another question, offering my inquiry with an eyebrow instead as she glanced back at me. Santana merely smiled, parting one set of drapes with her hand before gesturing with a nod for me to go inside.

I followed her direction, but I was not met with the familiar crunch of the loose rock under my shoe when I passed through the drapes.

_Holy moly. _

A large section under the porch was covered in multiple thick blankets and dozens of fluffy pillows.

At this point, I couldn't even speak if I wanted to.

"Take a seat, Blondie." She instructed from behind me, and I bent my knees down and into Indian-Style by the nearest mountain of pillows, without spilling either glass.

"Impressive." Santana complimented, motioning to the glasses with her eyes, before she joined me on the blankets with the plates, curving her legs around to her side.

I took a survey of my surroundings. Lavender beehive shaped paper lanterns were hanging from the wooden boards above us, and white string lights bordered the uppermost part of each drape. It was practically dreamlike. I was in shock.

Nestled in the rock not far from us was a sizeable space heater. That certainly explained why I wasn't feeling the chill of the autumn air anymore.

"That was nothing compared to this." I found my words finally, setting her glass down in front of her, as she set down my plate in front of me. She leaned to the side, fetching a bundle by a nearby pillow hill.

I looked down at my plate for the first time since she put it in front of me. Half of it was covered in a colorful salad and the other half contained what seemed to be some sort of a stuffed red pepper.

She handed me a napkin, and silverware and I gave her a curious smile in return.

"Will you just eat? God, you look like you're waiting for the porch to come crashing down on us." Santana returned my smile, signaling to my plate with her eyes expectantly.

"Believe me, stranger things have happened." _Like this._ I responded, still analyzing her and the situation with my gaze.

Without further pause, I began to cut a bite of my pepper.

_Oh my god this tastes incredible. _

"Bacon?!" _Bacon was my favorite. Total guilty pleasure._

"Just a little bit. It was a deviation from my regular recipe, but I think it works." She responded confidently.

"It definitely does." I agreed with her before taking another bite.

"You're sexy when you eat." My chef complimented, as she surveyed my face.

"Is that why you feed me all the time?" I retorted playfully.

"Maybe." She smiled before taking a bite of her own food.

"What is all of this, Santana?" I finally found the nerve to ask, gesturing with my fork hand to our surroundings.

"Why are you so paranoid?" She countered.

"Maybe because you avoid all of my questions?" I shot back with a smile.

But, I couldn't_ actually_ be upset with whatever dodging game she was playing while sitting in the little heavenly cave she had made for us, while eating the insanely good dinner she had cooked for us.

"This is where you kissed me the first time." Santana responded as if it somehow answered all of my questions.

"I know, but…" Despite the finality to her answer, I was still confused.

_Oh believe me,_ I was well aware that this was the location of our first kiss. It was a scene I had replayed in my mind thousands of times.

"How did you know I would be down here that night?" She interrupted me with a thoughtful expression.

"Are you serious? I grew up with you, San. I know where you hide. I used to hide here with you too when your parents were fighting." Sometimes it seemed as though she forgot how well I used to know her.

"Why did you come looking for me?" She continued, examining my eyes with hers.

"Well, you see, I felt this pull…" I began with a smile.

"Very funny, Q." Her eyes were void of any hint of mirth.

I wasn't making fun of her. I adored the way that she had described her feelings for me that day in the driveway.

"It's true. I've always been drawn to you. For years, you were the center of my world, and it was a real struggle for me to find any sense of gravity after you disappeared. You were the only person to ever make me feel the way that I did, and while I hated you for what you were doing to me, I was still _so_ desperate to get that feeling back." I explained, doing my best to maintain eye contact with Santana as I revealed myself even further to her.

"I didn't even _like_ Brittany, I always thought she played dumb to get attention, but I befriended her to keep a connection to you. It was so fucking confusing for me when I found out that you two were sleeping together. Growing up, that was a part of you that I knew I could never have. Girls didn't do that with other girls. It was outside of my scope of being. Our fathers and our priests made lesbians into these almost fictional monsters. But while you may have treated me like a monster would at times, you were very real." I continued, watching her shocked expression with interest.

I didn't know how she could have ever thought that she was the only one to feel this thing between us.

I loved Brittany now. I was still jealous of her at times, sure, but she was a complete sweetheart, and she really cared about other people. Plus, I couldn't think of a better person to lighten up dark situations. She was great; I just wished that she had never fucked my Santana.

"I was always jealous of Brittany, but then there was a new element to that jealousy and I had no idea how to deal with it. It really freaked me out, and I thought that maybe if I did more…things with guys then that feeling would go away, but it didn't. God, this makes me sound insane saying all of it out loud." I swallowed with my final admission. I sounded like a crazy stalker.

"Are you kidding me? I basically tried to ruin your life because I thought you didn't love me back, and you think you sound insane?" She flashed me a comforting smile.

"Maybe we're both insane." I smiled back with a shrug.

"Is that why you followed me to my job?" She asked, before taking a small bite of salad.

I nodded sheepishly.

_God that's embarrassing. _

"I'm so glad that I did though. Not just because of what happened between us that day in the storage room but because of how it allowed me to explore my art." And it did. That job had led me in a direction of such growth. I loved the kids and I loved the new doors that were opened for me and my artistic direction.

"You know, I never thought that I would want to be near someone that I hated so much. And every touch you gave me in that room just inflamed my confusion. Once we broke down that huge barrier between us, it was like I had found my sense of gravity again. So to come back to your original question, that's why I came to find you on your birthday. Simply put, I came to find you because I couldn't stay away from you." I inhaled sharply when I finished.

It was an irrational feeling that was creeping through me, I knew that. After all of her admissions, this one certainly wouldn't send her running, but it was still a lot to divulge.

"I love the way you speak. I wish you would have told me." She punctuated each sentence with a chaste kiss to my lips.

Her expression assured me that she wasn't going anywhere. She looked surprised, but happy. Very happy.

"I don't think you would have listened, San, and it would have been difficult to explain something that I didn't understand myself anyway." I rationalized.

I noticed the shift of her jaw and her empty plate.

"Oh my god, are you chewing gum already?" I inquired in disbelief.

"I mean, you were talking for a while, and I was hungry, and I finished my food, so…" She faced her palms to the heavens in that endearing way that she does, and I laughed the best I could without being disgusting with a mouthful of food.

"I swear you hide sticks of gum in your bra. I can't imagine another place on your person where you could be hiding them in that dress." I accused once my mouth was free of food.

_Her and her fucking spearmint gum. _

"Wanna check?" She invited playfully.

"Gee, Lopez, you really know how to get my motor running." I responded sarcastically.

_Gum search, how hot. _

_Oh god, who am I kidding? Exploring anything under that dress would be hot by default. _

She leaned back onto the palms of her hands with a confident smile and a tilt of her head.

"Finish eating and I'll show you what I'm capable of doing." She asserted.

I finished my food in the fastest but most polite way that I could manage given the circumstances while under Santana's devious gaze the entire time.

Once I was done, Santana placed both of our plates and glasses off to the side, before she crawled the short distance over to me.

There was nothing childlike about this crawl. It was borderline feline and 100% sex.

I had a perfect view of her delectable cleavage down her dress. She was a fucking sex panther.

When her mouth reached mine, she didn't taste like bacon or pepper or salad, just spearmint. I playfully stole her gum from her mouth, but she didn't raise a word of protest. She just kissed me harder.

When I broke the kiss to dispose of the gum, she spoke before I could kiss her again.

"I have one more thing for you." She confessed, and I raised my hands to say "what the hell is all of this?"

If this was to celebrate our one month anniversary, she was a couple days early, and this was way too much if that was the case.

Still, everything so far, was fantastic.

She reached behind me, inadvertently pressing her full chest into mine. _Jesus._

With warm brown eyes filled with anticipation, she handed me a medium sized box.

It wasn't wrapped; it was merely tied with a simple gold bow. I untied it, giving her a feigned look of anger, before I lifted the lid.

_My crown. _

My breath thwarted me as I gazed at the encrusted jewels of my Prom crown. I had never expected to see it again.

"I know that it isn't the crown that you were given, but it is an exact duplicate. Tina said that you lost yours that night somewhere in the crowd and I…" She attempted to enlighten me, and I was overwhelmed with gratitude.

_How fucking sweet of her. I mean, seriously? _

_She was attacked by six guys and she proceeds to pull whatever strings it takes to return a duplicate of my crown to me? _

I interrupted her explanation with my lips pressing appreciatively to hers.

Once upon a time, I had thought that things like crowns, titles, and popularity meant everything. But they didn't matter near as much as what I could find in this woman's kiss.

"I don't have anything for you that isn't already yours." I admitted in between caresses of her lips, listening to my own tone grow heavy as her tongue assumed a more prominent role in the interaction of our mouths.

"I would have to disagree with that." She purred into my willing lips.

"Mm…on what grounds?" I inquired curiously, chasing after her tongue once our lips connected again.

_All of me is hers. Every inch. _

Her hand snaked under my blouse, and she flattened her palm against the small of my back. I lost myself in her kiss as she drove her hand upwards.

I felt a release of pressure in my chest, and it took me more than a moment to recognize what that sensation was.

I didn't want to question it; I really _really_ just wanted to see where she was going with it, but I couldn't fight my natural compulsion to ask.

"Did you just unclasp my bra?" The last part came out in a moan as she enveloped my earlobe in her mouth.

She made some sort of affirmative noise in response, vibrating my already sensitive ear.

"With one hand?" I inquired further.

I was wearing a three clasp bra, and Santana had unclasped it with one motion. _Damn._

"Two fingers, actually." She corrected.

_Oh my god, my girlfriend is talented. _

I turned my head to meet her mouth with mine, arching my body against hers in approval.

She seemed to take my enthusiastic consent to heart, gliding her hand around my side, grazing the skin beneath my left breast with her fingertips.

My lower back spasmed in anticipation.

Santana laughed her husky laugh into my mouth as my kiss became distracted. In my defense, it was difficult to focus on anything but her hand sliding down my ribs and stomach before moving purposely back to tease my skin with her fingertips once again.

I wanted to tell her that she was mean. I wanted to tell her that she was a tease. But even if I could have found the words, I still didn't want to interrupt whatever it was that she was doing.

She made the full motion once more, and I was really starting to worry that it was going to go on forever.

When her hand moved beneath my bra instead of halting at the edge, I gasped.

Her soft hand traveled over the lower curve of my breast, but her fingers parted just before her fingertips would have reached my now very erect nipple.

I bit back a whine, and was rewarded when the "V" she had formed with her fingers made contact with the sensitive nub. She squeezed it gently between her fingers, and I tugged on her bottom lip with my teeth roughly.

She leaned back, causing my teeth to drag down her lower lip before separating the contact all together.

My eyebrows knitted together, as her hand escaped from beneath my shirt, and my lips parted in frustration.

Her other hand shifted under me before I could protest the change in events, pulling me into a seated position. I saw the pink cloth of my shirt in front of my face before I realized that she was taking it off of me.

_Oh fuck yes. _

I helped her in any way I could, and the mission ended with my shirt in a crumpled mess somewhere in the loose rock.

She hooked her forefingers beneath my bra straps, deliberately skimming my skin for the entire length of my arms as she removed my bra. I couldn't decide if she was moving so slowly to give me the opportunity to object or if she was just enjoying the slow torture that she had to have known that I was enduring.

Once my bra was in the vicinity of my shirt, she gazed at me with such adoration and need that my entire body flushed. I had never felt more wanted in my entire life so far than I did in that moment.

"Take off my dress, Q." Santana commanded, rising to her feet in front of me.

_Really? _

I followed her example by standing as well, and she turned her back to me. I shifted her gorgeous locks over her shoulder, and my hands were compelled to roam the exposed skin of her back, running over the feminine muscles beneath her skin.

She sighed against my touch, and I left a few feather light kisses from the base of her neck down her spine while I unzipped her.

Her dress transformed into a pool beneath us, and I was met with caramel skin glowing from the radiance of the lanterns and string lights, and a perfect ass covered in a thin layer of black lace.

"You are…" I started breathlessly, but she twisted around and smoldering brown eyes stole my words.

She trapped my mouth in a fiery kiss, and I barely noticed the shifting of her arms against me. I did however notice the feel of her bare chest on mine once she had removed her own bra.

_Never has skin on skin felt so good. _

"I want you inside of me." I broke the kiss to beg against her lips.

She answered with another _very_ hot kiss, but it was still not quite enough of an answer for me.

"Is that going to happen tonight?" I bit down on her bare shoulder at the end of my question. It wasn't even that I was trying to push a favorable answer; it was just something that I needed to know.

"Yes. As many times and for as long as you can take it." Her promise sent a new rush of heat, and with that, wetness through me.

She broke the blissful contact of my tits on hers, but left measured caresses of her mouth along my collarbone, before trailing down to the curve of my right breast. She sucked my flesh into her mouth with more and more force with each inch of movement before she finally, and supremely, encircled my aching nipple.

She created that delicious suction that she had done with my tongue so many times. She took her time with it, moaning against my skin as I pushed my chest further into her mouth. I was even further gone after one swirl of her practiced tongue. By the third or fourth swirl, my nails were burrowing into her sides.

Her hands went to work on the top button of my jeans, and zipper, her mouth regretfully parting from my mouth in order to drag my jeans down to add them to the pile of clothing.

"Santana. Please don't fucking say it if you don't mean it." I tipped my head back, my hands finding purchase in her raven hair, driving her to continue her attentions.

"I mean it. I'm going to take you until you tell me to stop." She vowed, returning her mouth to my breast and applying more sweet pressure with her tongue.

Her hand slid from the outside of my left thigh, fingernails raking along the silky material of my underwear, dragging it partially up my hip before leaving the area all together. My own nails flexed in her hair.

"And if I never ask you to stop?" I questioned in all seriousness.

_Oh god, I was finally going to have sex with Santana tonight. _

"You will." Santana declared, as her hand reached its destination. I could feel her high degree of tenderness fading in the rough way that she palmed my left breast, and the way her teeth were now lightly scraping my nipple.

"Or you'll pass out, whichever comes first." She explained the alternative, rolling her lower lip over my nipple, before looking up at me with a charged smile.

I had never been so turned on in my life.

She swept her arm just under the curve of my ass, as her other arm secured my back. I was off my feet before I could register her intent. I was surprised, but I was not concerned as I was literally swept off my feet and brought back down to the layers of pillows and blankets.

As soon as her mouth hit mine, my hands were on her full breasts. I moaned instantaneously at the contact that I had initiated. Her skin was so incredibly silky, and I had to squeeze my thighs together in search of some sort of relief as the evidence of her arousal pushed erect against the center of my hands.

Her hands were everywhere, touching me in _almost_ every place I wanted her touch to be. She was kneading my flesh and scratching my skin, and it fueled my already blazing fire.

My body formed a sudden arc against hers during her attentions to my thighs, causing my thigh to meet a barrier of soaking wet lace.

We moaned in unison.

Dark eyes met mine immediately after the contact; the desire there was as palpable as the saturated heat on my thigh, but there was another emotion there as well.

She was looking at me as if she was expecting me to suddenly run or to decide that this wasn't for me after all. It was as if she was anticipating for the sensation of her wetness on my thigh to turn me away.

I didn't understand how this fucking sex goddess could feel such vulnerability.

Did she think that I was gay for her kiss, gay for her touch, but not gay for the area between her legs that I was so desperate to explore?

I reached between her stagnated legs and cupped the entirety of her, and I fought against the moan that threatened to escape my lips, and I fought against my eyelids that threatened to close. It was like she was on fire.

Her gaze flitted down as she took a ragged breath.

"Get out of that gorgeous head of yours and just look at me." I firmly instructed. It was really difficult to just hold my hand there without moving it, especially when I could feel my hand growing increasingly damp.

She obeyed my instruction.

"Touch me, Santana. I guarantee that I am _just_ as wet for you as you are for me." I professed.

Her intense stare held mine, as her fingers slid down my stomach. I swear my breath hitched half a dozen times before she reached the hem of my only remaining piece of clothing.

"Touch me." This time my words were definitely more of a plea than an order.

To my slight disappointment, her fingers moved over rather than under the material, but the face she made when the skin of her fingertips brushed over my own soaked bikini cut underwear was far from disappointing.

With three fingers she pressed deliberately down, partially spreading my lower lips with the strength of her touch. I arched into her, which only pushed the material further past my slit.

I unconsciously dropped my hand from her sex, gripping the blanket beneath me instead.

_Why is this already so much better than any sexual experience, I've ever had? _

Some sort of switch seemed to flip within her with the arch of my body, and her mouth seized mine, and she proceeded to rip my underwear down my thighs and calves and ankles. I barely had to lift my ass at all to assist her.

Everything seemed erotic at this point. Her hair falling around my own, her hot breath on my face, her breasts on mine.

She shifted herself over me completely, straddling my hips without breaking our kiss.

_Her skin feels so very right against mine. _

That was the last thought I had before one of her fingers pushed directly between my lower lips, and my mind went blank.

It was just sensations for me for the next few moments. Her adept finger seemed to make a figure eight from around my clit and then down to my entrance and back again.

It was so good to just have her there, that I almost didn't care that she was avoiding touching the places where I needed her most.

I could feel how slick I was under her fingers.

"Fuck, baby, you're so wet." She moaned, calling me baby for the first time, as she sucked on the exposed skin of my neck.

"Do you finally understand why I've been practically begging for you to _fuck me_ for weeks now? This is what you do to me." I explained in my throaty fashion.

"Say it." Santana demanded against my neck.

I knew what she wanted.

I grasped her chin with my hand, tilting her eyes up to meet mine. I needed her to see exactly how much I wanted this.

"Fuck me." I begged, my hazel piercing into her brown.

I didn't have to ask twice. She pushed one finger inside of me as soon as her finger eight neared my entrance again.

Her pace was unhurried as she withdrew slowly before pushing it into me once more. I could feel myself clench around her fingers as I released my loudest moan yet. She captured my moan with her kiss, driving her tongue into mine.

She pushed her finger in again, but this time she held it there, whirling her finger around inside of me, rolling her tongue against mine as she did so.

Every scrape of the lace of her thong against my skin increased my arousal. There was just something so very erotic about the lace scratching against my naked body.

When she pushed a second finger inside of me, I realized that she was stretching me.

She sucked on my bottom lip and I whimpered against her as she started to pump in and out of me.

I wasn't sure what exactly she was doing with her fingers, but she was hitting a place inside of me that no one ever had before.

I separated my mouth from hers to glance between us, watching her forearm flex in the hottest possible way as she fucked me.

She leaned further forward, which blocked my view but in turn it allowed her palm to rub against my clit with every few strokes.

A pressure of a foreign magnitude was building within me as she increased her speed and force.

I was grateful that there were no neighbors in earshot, because I was not being quiet. _Not by any measure. _

With one hard thrust, her fingers stilled momentarily inside of me. I used that pause to take a deep, and much needed, breath.

She didn't withdraw her fingers, but they moved in synchronization inside of me, pounding with more strength than I believed two fingers were capable of possessing against one of my inner walls.

"Oh my god…oh my god…oh my god…" I cried out, over and over again, before I had no more breath or energy to donate to the cause.

A euphoric ripple swept through my entire body, as Santana brought me to and through what was by far the best orgasm I had ever had in my life. The bucking of my hips slowed, as I fell over the edge, and had I been even remotely aware, I would have guessed that my fingernails in her back were definitely going to leave marks.

She kissed me down from the high of my orgasm with deep, purposeful movements of her tongue.

I sighed gratefully into the kiss, tangling my fingers into her hair instead of her wounded back.

It was the first orgasm I had ever been given. And _fuck_, was it _good_.

"You are…" I repeated my words from earlier, but once again she interrupted me.

"Nowhere close to being done with you yet." She smirked into our kiss.

I realized that her fingers were still inside of me, which was clearly a position that she was very aware of.

After that orgasm, I thought I would be too sensitive, but her thrusts began slowly enough that all I felt was amazing. She tipped her wrist away from my clit until I was writhing against her once more.

"I love the way you feel around my fingers." She praised, kissing her way down my neck.

Eventually, she used the rocking of her hips to put more weight behind her thrusts. I was climbing to orgasm sooner than I ever expected, and the circular motion she was making with her palm sent me over the edge for the second time.

I didn't fully recognize how tense I was until she fucked the tenseness out of me.

This time, she did withdraw her fingers, bringing them immediately to her mouth, which was still hovering over mine.

She had my full, albeit half-lidded, attention as slipped those two fingers that were just inside of me, past her plump lips.

My hips rocked into her. Obviously they were not completely devoid of energy as I had thought.

She didn't break eye contact, as her skillful mouth sucked all of my moisture from her fingers.

"Fuck." I breathed, wrapping my hand around her neck to pull her lips into mine.

I tasted of myself from her mouth.

_I have never tasted better._

She moaned in appreciation of my kiss, and I felt her hand slink down my stomach once again.

_Oh my god, can I handle any more?_ I guess I was going to find out.

My skin felt sensitive everywhere, especially between my thighs, so I wasn't sure how I was going to react when her finger slid past my lips once again.

This time her finger paused when it was immediately aligned with my clit. She rubbed lightly just to the left of my swollen bundle of nerves. I wasn't sure if her finger was making any contact at all with my clit, but either way it felt marvelous. Inconceivably, the build started within me once more.

"You're going to kill me." I whined against her heated kiss.

"Do you want me to stop?" She husked, but questioned genuinely despite the feral need of her voice.

"Only if you have a death wish." I repeated similar words from the night when we first became a couple when she had joked about going to Dakota's.

My third orgasm was different than my other two. This release felt like a rush of pure warmth.

She kissed me down once again. I gasped loudly when she rolled back onto her shins. My core was officially sensitive city at that point, and the weight of her was almost too much.

She smirked down at me, her perfect breasts lifting as she raised her arms to her hair.

I tried to open my eyes completely, in order to appreciate the vision before me. I never thought I would find such beauty in another girl's dark areolas.

"Now you have firsthand experience that they aren't fake." She referred to the two alluring globes in front of me.

I laughed softly and nodded, glancing further up only briefly to take note of Santana's intentions as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail with the hair tie she had kept around her wrist.

I almost pouted. I was enjoying the feel of her silky hair on my bare skin.

"I love you." She professed from above me, and my heart demonstrated that it was still in working condition.

"I love you, too." I professed in return, as a smile of pure relaxation and contentment played on my lips.

"I'm so ready to taste more of you." She rasped, her insatiable brown eyes trailing down and between my legs.

My jaw was already slacked from relaxation, but fell further from her admission.

_More? _

Well, that explained the hair tie. I never even thought about how girls would probably want to put their hair up for such things.

"I've never had…um…" I stuttered.

"No one has ever gone down on you before?" She found my words for me, as she often did lately.

I shook my head. I never would let them. It seemed far too intimate and personal. And I figured if they couldn't please me other ways then they certainly wouldn't be able to do it that way either.

"Do you want me to wait?" Her hands left her hair as the question hung in the air.

_Ugh, how does she manage to be so fucking sensitive and look so fucking hot at the same time? _

"Just for a few minutes. My body needs a breather." I confessed with a smile.

And it did need a breather. Those were earthshattering orgasms.

I wanted her mouth on me. _Badly._ And, that want overcame any nerves that I may have had.

"It's okay. I'll get your body used to it eventually." She smirked at me, and my inner walls twitched at her declaration.

Perhaps some of the confidence coming off of my girlfriend in waves rubbed off on me, but within seconds, I was shoving her back onto a pile of pillows behind her before I could change my mind.

Once we had landed, she laughed heartily, glancing down at my forearm over her bare chest.

"What?" I asked, slightly hurt.

"This is how you shoved me down on my birthday, Q." She pointed out.

"Yeah?" I responded absent-mindedly, too focused on tearing her thong down and off of her.

"Definitely different tonight though." She breathed, lifting her hips to enable my progress.

"Because I'm about to fuck you, you mean?" My gaze challenged hers.

She bit into her bottom lip, her anticipation evident in the rise and fall of her chest.

"Yes." It was more than a response to a question, it was a husky consent.

She was beautiful. Her dark swollen lips were shining with wetness, and had I been more confident with my female oral skills, I would have placed my mouth on her immediately.

_Another day. _

Besides that particular insecurity, after orgasming three times beneath her, my inhibitions were pretty much shot.

I initiated an intense kiss. Lacking completely in any amount of self-control that would allow me to draw this out any further, I mimicked the technique that I used when I would touch myself, and dipped my middle finger into her burning wet heat.

"Jesus Christ, Santana." I whimpered at just how very drenched she was.

"You wouldn't blame me if you knew how unbelievably sexy you look when I'm fucking you." She husked, her eyes closing at the contact of my finger with her clit.

I prayed that I could make her feel even a fraction of the pleasure that she had made me feel as I made the semi-circular motion that I had applied to my own clit so many times.

"That feels incredible, Q." She assured me.

Minutes later, when her hips began to move far more erratically against my hand, I quickened my circles and pushed down with more pressure.

She craned her head back, throwing her hips up and against my hand as she came, with the sexiest mixture between a gasp and a moan emitting from her swollen lips.

She leaned forward to kiss me as soon as she caught her breath. I felt down right proud of my work. My wrist was slightly tired from the variation on my usual exercise of it, but otherwise it seemed to have gone well.

I raised my middle finger to my lips, as Santana had done with her fingers earlier. The taste of her was not a strong one, but it was sweet and tangy. I definitely wanted more.

"Put your hands over here." She dictated, gesturing for me to put my hands off to her side. I gave her a curious look, and she guided my body until I formed a bridge over her with my knees on one side of her, and my palms down on the other side of her.

"What am I…" I started to question.

"Just put two fingers inside of me, and spread your legs." She ordered.

I couldn't contemplate how those two things were related, but while I was nervous to have my fingers inside of her, I wanted it desperately at the same time.

She moaned as soon as my two fingers slipped into her wet heat once again, trailing down until I felt her entrance beneath them.

Cautiously, I entered her with one finger.

"Two, Q. Don't worry about hurting me." She directed. I was hesitant because she already felt tight, but I figured she knew more about this than I did, and forced my second finger inside of her.

She arched up, unintentionally pushing my fingers deeper into her, and an exotic hiss fled her lips.

I attempted to move my fingers in and out of her as she had moved hers in and out of me. I was no expert, but this angle did seem particularly advantageous for the task.

I practically cried out in surprise when I felt her hand between my own legs. She found my entrance effortlessly, and curved two fingers inside of me before I could finish the current thrust of my own fingers.

It filled me in a different way than our position had before, but it was no less amazing.

"Oh fuck." I moaned, as she fucked me with more force, her palm slapping against my wet skin.

* * *

"Q, baby?" A sweet but amused voice beckoned me away from the delightful darkness.

"Hmm?" I murmured back, pulling the warm, and oddly fully clothed form into my own.

"You're adorable and all, but the gardener is going to be here in a couple hours, and we need to get you dressed and inside." She kissed my temple as she explained the need for my wakeup call.

I forced my eyes open at that revelation. Santana was in a tank and yoga pants, and I was…_yup, totally naked._

I blushed as if she had not been all over every inch of my body just a couple short hours before.

"I didn't fall asleep during…did I?" _Oh god_, I hoped not. I remembered collapsing on top of her in a sweaty exhausted mess after she had given me a few additional expertly delivered orgasms.

There was a pleasurable soreness throbbing between my legs. I bit the inside of my cheek as soon as I noticed it.

My legs felt weak and shaky, and standing felt like it would be an insurmountable feat at that moment.

She laughed, brushing her lips against mine.

"No not during, more like _immediately_ after. Here's some water, and chocolate. I figured that you might need some sustenance before we made the trek inside." She handed me said sustenance and I accepted it gratefully.

I was just as thirsty as I would have been had I spent the night drinking instead of making love to my incredibly skillful girlfriend.

_Genius. Pure genius. _

In just one night, Santana Lopez had ruined me for all others.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter XXXII**

**A/N: It has been awhile since I have given you all a proper thank you...so I hereby thank you properly if that is in fact possible to do. So many of you have been so amazing about reviewing, and it makes this process truly rewarding for me to hear from you. Oh, and once again, feel free to follow me on Tumblr at quasisuspect if that suits your fancy. Love you all! **

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I have always considered my ability to sleep for an inordinate amount of hours to be a talent of mine. Unfortunately, with all of my activities, it is a rare occasion that I really get to flex my sleeping muscles. And yet, I was awake before 7 a.m. that morning.

The stories all seem to claim that after really good sex with the person that you love, you're supposed to have the best sleep of your life. I didn't, and I'm not sure why. 7 a.m. was later than I usually was allowed to sleep, but I also went to bed much later than usual as well.

I was full of nervous energy. I wasn't worried about the quality of the sex by any means, because _lezbehonest_ here, it was amazing.

Maybe I was worried about her feeling differently now, or maybe I was concerned that she was going to suddenly be wracked with gay panic.

I didn't have any answers for how I was feeling. I was still happy. The happiest I had ever been.

She was sexier than I ever imagined that she would be, in fact, I was ready to go again whenever she was.

Surely, she couldn't have had any clue as to the Pandora sex box that she had opened. If she hadn't passed out last night, I would have loved to keep going.

But, it did feel really good to know that I could do that to Quinn Fabray. _Really good. _

Although, I had troubles sleeping in, my lover sure didn't. It was past 10 a.m. and she still had not left the bed I had forced her into hours before. In her exhausted stupor, she had barely spoken to me at all when I helped her get dressed in the pajamas I had brought down for her, and when I had helped her upstairs.

For a while, I attempted to read with her next to me in my bed, but her sleeping form was all kinds of distracting. I feared that if I were to lie there much longer, I was going to end up waking her with my lips or my hands.

Instead of rousing the sleeping beauty, I changed my clothes, and headed down to the basement. I inhaled the distinctive air of the level of the house that I had transformed into my own sanctuary.

Once my father was supposedly gone for good, I had reclaimed the basement in the way that other people would reclaim words.

If Quinn wasn't slumbering upstairs, I probably would have taken a seat at my drum set, but since she was, I had to choose a less noisy alternative to releasing my nervous energy.

I set my phone down on the seat in front of my drums, and turned on my music, crossing the room to the mats, dummies, and bags, stretching as soon as I did so.

_We touch I feel a rush  
We clutch it isn't much  
But it's enough to make me wonder what's in store for us  
It's lust, it's torturous  
You must be a sorceress 'cause you just  
Did the impossible  
Gained my trust don't play games it'll be dangerous  
If you fuck me over  
'Cause if I get burnt imma show you what it's like to hurt  
'Cause I've been treated like dirt before you  
And love is "evol"  
Spell it backwards I'll show you_

I hooked my right thumb into the loop of my black hand binding before twisting the first piece of the cloth around my hand. As I wrapped my hands in preparation, I attempted to recall the last time that I had been down here for this purpose.

After what had happened at Prom, a reasonable person would probably assume that I would spend as much time down here as possible. I had experienced firsthand how useful it was. Without a doubt, those assholes would have done far more damage if my father hadn't forced me into training all of those years ago.

And yet, it had been weeks since I had felt the familiar binding around my wrists, palms, and knuckles. I contracted my fingers against the cloth, before I began to bounce on my toes.

_Nobody knows me I'm cold  
Walk down this road all alone  
It's no one's fault but my own  
It's the path I've chosen to go_

I ran through a few exercises to warm up my muscles before landing the flat top of my foot with a loud kick into my first bag of the morning.

The world fell away, for how long, I couldn't tell you, but just when I was beginning perspire, two cymbals crashed noisily against one another from across the room.

I turned on the balls of my feet impulsively, but dropped my form in minor embarrassment at the sight of a blushing Quinn.

_I got a hole in my heart, for some kind of emotional rollercoaster  
Something I won't go on 'til you toy with my emotion, so it's over  
It's like an explosion every time I hold you, I wasn't joking when I told you  
You take my breath away  
You're a supernova... and I'm a_

"Please continue. Don't mind me." She requested after she had recovered from her collision with my splash cymbal.

The blonde looked as though she had just been caught with her hand in the pervy cookie jar.

_ She's too precious. _

"I'm supposed to pretend like you're not over there creepin' on me? How long have you been standing there?" My own embarrassment at being watched without my knowledge was quickly forgotten as soon as I recognized the want evident on my lover's face.

"Only a couple minutes, unfortunately." She admitted with regret, gesturing for me to continue.

Between the desire in her eyes, and her outfit, I was automatically flown into a similar state of arousal. She was in a fitted t-shirt and was clearly not wearing a bra, and she had a long blonde braid running over her shoulder.

_I'm a space bound rocket ship and your heart's the moon  
And I'm aiming right at you  
Right at you  
Two hundred fifty thousand miles on a clear night in June  
And I'm aiming right at you  
Right at you  
Right at you_

"Collecting new material for your spank bank?" I teased, resting the palm of my hand on the bag I was assaulting just moments before.

"That's gross, Santana, and I'd be really turned off by you right now if you weren't…" Quinn trailed off. I wasn't sure if she couldn't find the words she was searching for or if she just became distracted.

Her eyes were jumping between my hands, abs, legs, and chest, as if she couldn't decide where she wanted them most.

"If I weren't what?" While my heart rate had slowed since my exercise had been interrupted, my breathing was definitively reacting to the way her eyes were on me.

She just gestured to me with two hands in a devastatingly adorable fashion, while biting down on her lower lip.

"Get over here." I ordered with a meaningful smirk.

She made her way toward me with deliberately sexy steps. Her hands were on my exposed stomach as soon as I was within her reach.

_I do whatever it takes_  
_When I'm with you I get the shakes_  
_My body aches when I ain't_  
_With you I have zero strength_  
_There's no limit on how far I would go_  
_No boundaries, no lengths_

As her fingers heated my already warmed skin, I took her braid into my hand, gliding her silky hair between my thumb and forefinger.

"May I tell you something?" She breathed against the curve of my ear. Pushing her fingers into the skin just above my belly button.

"Yes." I couldn't decide whether I wanted to hear her question, or whether I wanted to kiss her more. I settled for hooking my finger into the top of her shirt, pulling it down so I could outline her collarbone with my mouth.

"I've never slept better than I slept last night." She admitted, slanting her chest to better meet my needs.

_I wish I could say the same. _

In truth, if I had to choose, I would rather that she has the good night sleep between the two of us.

"You're breathtaking when you sleep." I flicked my tongue against her skin, still amazed by the fact that it was my skin to taste.

"Now who's the creeper?" She accused huskily, and her fingers continued to rake down my abs as if she couldn't get enough.

_Why do I feel so anxious? _

Things that I want come to fruition all the time. I want to fuck someone, I do it. I want a solo, I get it. I want to be the best, I dominate it.

But Quinn. She's not something or rather someone that I ever believed that I could have. I had honestly never anticipated being this happy.

It was thrilling and terrifying all at the same time.

_Let's cut to the chase  
'Fore a door shuts in your face  
Promise me if I cave in and break and leave myself open  
That I won't be making a mistake_

I physically reacted to my internal conflict, and took a literal step back from her.

She dropped her hands from my stomach with a dejected frown, and I immediately scrambled to cover my mistake.

"Alright, so I'm already aware of what a genius slapper you are, but can you throw a punch?" I asked my question with a smile, hoping to erase the lines of distress on her face.

She looked at me as if I was asking her if she could fly.

"Choreographed punches." She responded without returning my smile, her frown was losing some strength, however.

"Show me." I requested, guiding her elbows up with my hands.

She gave me her head bitch "Really?" face, you know, where her perfectly shaped eyebrow cocks, her mouth parts, and her eyes roll slightly back.

I was instantly flushed with the need to make her eyes roll all the way back, like I had the night before.

After raising her brief facial objection, she humored me, and her hand and arm flailed forward in the direction of the bag.

I grasped her hesitant fist before she could make contact with the bag that she was swinging at.

"Whoa there, Rocky. Let's not hit the bag yet." I coached in concern, lowering her hand with mine.

I retrieved her thumb from the inside of her tightly closed fist.

"Not so tight, and never tuck your thumb in there. Put it here. Now try again, but this time put your other hand up to guard your face. Go slow." I guided, and fought the smile that threatened to form on my face at the determined expression on hers.

She attempted a few more punches at the open air. They were much better, although it was difficult to be an impartial judge when her unrestrained tits were bouncing with each punch.

"Don't fully extend your arm, Q, or you'll hurt yourself." I cautioned, and she dropped her hands, with a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"You're really intimidating, you know that?" She expressed, and I attempted to guide her arms back up again.

"The Ice Queen herself is calling me intimidating? Keep punching. If you're going to be a successful lover of the ladies, you're going to need to be able to multi-task." I cracked a joke, but immediately regretted it.

_ And yet another misunderstanding between us. _

"You know, Santana, while I'm sure you were just brilliant your first time, like you're brilliant at everything else, there's a bit of a learning curve for us humans." She retrieved her arms completely away from my touch, as her eyes flashed with resentment.

"I'm feeling a little slow on this conversational curve, actually." I admitted.

"Last night was my first time, and you just criticized me about it." She explained, and I almost laughed at her implication.

"No, I didn't. I was speaking in general, and it was a joke." I defended in exasperation.

_Was it going to be like this our entire lives? Whoa there. Slow the fuck down Santana. _

"Sure. I guess I expected you to be a little bit more sensitive of how insecure I would feel about…my performance. Feeling that good, was really new for me, and what you were doing was distracting." She confessed, biting down on her lip in discomfort.

I probably looked as confused as I felt.

_Distracting?_ I supposed she must have been talking about when I had her form a bridge above me and I was fucking her while she was fucking me. Her fingers had stilled within me multiple times while mine were still pumping into her, but that hadn't bothered me one bit. _God, I love that position._

"I wasn't criticizing you, Q. Last night was…incredible." I retorted honestly.

"For me, it was. I don't even _know_ how many times I orgasmed, but I only made you cum once." She corrected, raising her hands to emphasize her point.

I couldn't stop my smile from spreading at the way she had emphasized "know".

"Normal people would consider that to be a successful night." Once again she was not returning my smile. I was at a real loss as to what the problem here was.

"Cut the shit, Santana. How would you feel if it was the other way around?" She snapped, and I tried to concentrate on the question she was posing rather than the images from last night that were begging to be replayed in my head.

"What, do you want me to give you fewer orgasms next time? Are you really complaining about that right now? Jesus Christ, why do we have to talk about _everything_?" She had pushed me from confusion into actual irritation. I couldn't win with this girl.

"No, of course that's not what I want. I just want to be able to give you more." Her tone softened with her admission, and my irritation was washed away with just one look.

I placed my hands to her hips, bringing her closer to me. She was allowing me to see some of her vulnerability, and I needed to return the favor.

"You didn't do anything wrong, okay? And I loved that I was able to distract you. It was hot. In fact, I can't wait to have your fingers inside of me again. And here's some sex ed for ya, Blondie, penetration orgasms are not that easy to achieve for most women. Some women can't even have them." I raised one of her hands to my lips, kissing her middle three fingers, one by one.

"The only person who has ever been able to give me a penetration orgasm has been me, okay? I've never allowed anyone else to even try for long enough to make it happen." I admitted, repeating my attentions to her fingers, except this time, I allowed my mouth to linger on each digit.

It typically made me uncomfortable to have someone focus on my pleasure. I didn't know if it was some sick power thing on my part or that I didn't feel deserving of another person's efforts, but either way, it wasn't something that I ever allowed to happen.

"Every girl is different. Sometimes it takes a while to get over that first penetration orgasm hump and from there it's easier to make it happen. Some girls are just more penetration oriented than others. Not to be too modest here, but you probably fall into the latter category." I finished, sucking lightly on the pads of each of her fingers.

She was struggling to keep her eyes open, and her breathing was becoming quite uneven.

"I'm pretty sure that when I Googled all of this, I came up with less information than what you just gave me." She laughed, kissing the corner of my mouth as I released her hand from mine.

"I know my craft, what can I say? _Wait_, you Googled how to have lesbian sex?" I started with a smug smile but it faltered after recognizing her admission.

_What a dork. What an incredibly hot dork. _

"I had to do my research." She shrugged, clearly enjoying the impact this new nugget of information was having on me.

"And your parent's parental controls let you do that?" I probed for further information, sliding my hands to her waist.

"I know how to turn the safe search off." She replied nonchalantly without even a hint of a blush. _Oh I was not about to let this go._

"My bad, I forgot about your porn addiction." I teased with a giggle, squeezing her waist beneath my hands.

"You're an asshole." She pushed me back from her playfully, and her laughter joined mine.

"I hope you cleared your history." I continued, holding my hands up in feigned surrender, as I stumbled backwards.

"Of course, I did. I'm not stupid." My eyes were transfixed on her tongue momentarily as she chuckled.

I had never loved another person's laugh so much.

"What did you learn?" I prodded, stepping towards her once again.

_Like I said, I wasn't going to drop this._

"Obviously not enough, but I _was_ wondering one thing." She lifted one finger, pressing it into the bare skin neighboring the strap of my sports bra.

"What's that?" I inquired distantly. Her drifting touch was very clearly distracting me.

"Do girls actually scissor?" Both of her eyebrows rose with her question, and if ethnic people could in fact blush, I was doing exactly that.

"Oh my god…um, yeah, some do. I never have. It seems like it would be really awkward." I gave her an honest response, my cheeks flushing for a different reason entirely as her finger trailed over the taut curve of my breast.

"Wow, it must be really out there if it is something that you won't try." She was playing with me using her low tone and her deliberate touch. This temptress knew exactly what she was doing.

"I never said I wouldn't try it. I said that I hadn't. I would have to be really comfortable with someone to do that." Her finger dipped between my twins as I elaborated.

"I'll keep that in mind." She promised with a purposeful smile.

"See that you do." I returned her smile, tilting my head to bring my lips to hers.

But instead of a kiss, her eyes narrowed at my shoulders, and she turned me around immediately for inspection.

"Oh fuck, San, do those hurt?" She sounded genuinely concerned as well as guilty.

I obviously couldn't see my own back, but I knew that her fingernails had made an imprint last night.

"No…I didn't even notice they were there until you touched them, and I really enjoyed it while it was happening." It even felt good to have her hands there now. It probably wouldn't feel great if her nails were actually digging into me again, however.

"That's good, because I couldn't really help it." There was a fascination to her tone, as she traced her work on my back with her fingertips.

Deciding that I wanted my bare hands on her as well, I began to unwrap my hands.

"Those are hot. Keep them on." From her face when I peered over my shoulder at her, it wasn't a request.

Her breaths were shallow, and her eyes had definitely darkened.

"I will on one condition." I posed with a smirk.

_Game on, Fabray. _

"What's that?" She pondered as her hand caressed the back of my neck.

"You have to lie down." I presented her with my terms, and she fulfilled the condition without hesitation.

I promptly kneeled down to join her.

"Your abs are…" She drifted off as her eyes zoned in on the center of my kneeling form.

"Lickable? You have no idea how badly I wanted to fuck you that day." I smiled pointedly at the memory.

Without warning, she rolled to sit up, her fingernails digging into my ass as she pulled me forward. She sucked down hard on a spot just below my ribs. I released a moan at the surprise sensation, and was all about it, until she became a tad bit overzealous with her suction.

"Ow! Shit. What the fuck was that?" I shoved her back without any real force, unsure of whether I should be pissed off or turned on.

With a laugh, she laid back down.

"Just leaving my mark." She answered casually.

There were strands of hair bordering her face that had not been captured by the braid. The blonde of her hair made such sweet contrast with the dark hazel of her eyes. _Fuck, she looks beautiful on her back._

"My back wasn't enough?" I probed, noting how her nipples were pressing through the material of her shirt in arousal.

"Nope. I may not be able to kiss you or hold your hand at school, but I fucking love the idea of you walking around with my mark beneath your clothes." There was something primal in her tone as she gazed up at me, claiming me with her eyes.

By the growing wetness beneath my shorts, I apparently loved the idea as well.

"Ironic how Miss Anti-Commitment found her match in Miss Possessive. Just for that, I'm going to leave more than one mark on the inside of your thighs." I promised, my hands roaming in that direction as we spoke.

"Claim me in whatever way you see fit, babe." She encouraged with swollen lips.

_Fuck. _

I seized two handfuls of her tiny sleep shorts, and tugged them all the way down and off of her body.

She wasn't wearing underwear. _Holy fuck, could this girl be anymore perfect? _

I lowered my body to worship her immediately. My practiced hands pushed her knees up and out, and kissed the inside of both of her calves.

"Are you sore?" I raised an eyebrow in question.

I needed to know. I didn't want to hurt her. _At least, not badly._

My mouth continued its path upwards as I waited for her to find breath enough to respond.

"A little." She gasped, and I was surprised by a sudden movement of her hips. I pushed them down forcefully as if to order them to stay in place.

"Let me know if anything is too much. I'll have to be all mouth since you have me wearing these anyway." I instructed.

Her hips were already fighting for dominance against my hands. This was going to be quite the ride.

"Sounds terrible." The gorgeous blonde moaned, as I made my first mark on her inner thigh. It was by no means as rough as the one she had made on my torso, but I was just getting started.

She smelled like sex heaven is supposed to smell.

"If I let you do this, you have to let me try to give you a penetration orgasm when you're done." She managed a full sentence, and I rewarded her with a smile from beneath my eyelashes, as I peered up at her, my mouth still locked on the irresistibly smooth skin of her thigh.

"If you let me do this? Q baby, if you don't want this, I'm sure as hell not going to do it." I challenged, lifting my mouth from her thigh.

There was a hand on my head pushing me back down before I could finish my sentence.

Her hips, her scent, her obvious wetness, were all weaving a tale of want.

"First of all, I love it when you call me that. Second of all, I definitely want your mouth on me." Her voice was pure husky need as she pushed her fingers into my pulled back hair, driving my face in a very particular direction.

I already knew that I would never get enough of this.

My lips made contact with moisture on the innermost part of her thigh, and I closed my eyes immediately at the taste. I allowed my wrapped hands to scuff down the outside of her thighs as I moved my mouth closer to the radiating source of heat.

"Oh god that's good." She complimented the movement of my hands in her throaty tone.

"Is this some sort of fetish I should know about?" After posing the question, I hardened my tongue, tracing every bit of wetness that I discovered from her thigh to her slit.

I still had yet to part her with my mouth. I was patiently waiting for her hips to behave before doing so.

"It's not weird. I was not the only one who was ready to drop my panties upon finding out about your fighting skills." She detailed in a voice bordering on a heated whine.

I formed a loose "o" shape with my lips, channeling warm air to the sensitive skin beneath me, covering every inch of her mound and slit with my breath. I had her writhing beneath me without making any contact with her clit. It was an intoxicating power.

"Who else?" I inquired. Not that I really cared at this point, but I was very much enjoying our conversational foreplay.

I spread her legs further with my hands, taking my time to push the black wrapping into her skin.

"Maybe I'll tell you specifics later. I really don't want to ruin the mood." Her refusal sounded like a plea.

"Now I'm scared." I teased, curving my tongue over her plump lower lip.

"Don't be. I'll protect you." She moaned, and I had to shove her hips down once again.

"With your legs around my head, I hope." I dipped my tongue inside of her without pretense, my moan vibrating her skin as I explored her thoroughly.

She was out of words.

Her thighs were trembling by the time my tongue circled her clit. I flattened my most dangerous weapon against her, applying moderate pressure, but I didn't move it. For a few moments, I allowed her gyrating hips to do the work for me.

She moaned something unintelligible when my tongue began moving directly against her clit.

I cursed my hand wraps for a fleeting moment, wanting my fingers inside of her as my tongue assaulted her clit.

Her own hands were digging into my hair, practically pulling it out of the ponytail.

I enveloped her clit in my mouth, alternating an increasingly forceful suction, with deliberate licks of my tongue.

Puck's ringtone "Loser" by Beck interrupted whatever music had been playing in the background, but it didn't faze me.

"Santana." She moaned my name loudly as I rolled my tongue against her sensitive skin, sucking harder to appease her.

Quinn's wetness was all over my chin, and she was moaning my name. I was unable to register much else.

I scooped my hands under her flawless ass and pulled her even closer to my face, driving my tongue into her.

"Yes…" Quinn hissed from above me.

Puck's ringtone sounded yet again and realization of the day of week, and the probable time of day hit me like a cockblocking truck.

It was Saturday afternoon, which meant I was supposed to be outside running with my best friend.

"Puck must be here." I groaned regrettably against her wonderfully wet skin, enjoying how she shuddered with the hum of my voice against her.

Her thighs clamped reflexively around my ears.

"Does he have a house key?" She purred above me, tightening her grip in my hair as well.

"No." I answered, unable to prevent myself from rolling my tongue against her swollen clit again. She tasted so god damn good.

"Then you better not stop." She commanded, and I was in no state to argue with her. Her legs were fucking strong, and I had wanted this for far too long to walk away from it now.

I forcibly pushed her thighs out again.

I would take it slower with her next time. But for now, I couldn't keep my best friend waiting too long. I could hear him pounding on the door upstairs.

"Fuck my tongue." I ordered, lifting her ass with one hand this time, not caring about my bound hands as my thumb sought out her clit.

I rubbed her hardened bundle of nerves with my thumb as she bucked against my face, and my head bobbed beneath her.

In mere moments, she was gasping with each thrust of my tongue, tugging on my hair while she rode my mouth.

I had planned to build to this sort of fervency, but she certainly did not seem to mind the change in pace as she convulsed around my tongue.

I pressed my thumb into her clit as she rode out her orgasm, spasming and shaking against my face.

She dragged me up to her with my bra strap, capturing my mouth in a heated kiss as I shared her taste between us. After the workout my tongue had just had, I almost couldn't keep up with the enthusiasm of her tongue against mine. _Almost. _

She sucked her own taste off of my tongue, and I whimpered into her mouth. I wanted to take her again. So fucking badly.

"Shower with me when you get back?" It was more of a demand than a question. Quinn didn't make requests often.

"You bet your sweet ass." I confirmed before rushing upstairs, fixing my disheveled pony tail as I hurried.

I tore off my wraps as I jogged up the steps in order to greet my mohawked friend.

* * *

"Tell me!" I pleaded over the front desk at work.

"What is this double standard here? I'm not telling you my costume if you're not going to tell me yours." Quinn laughed at me as she shook her head in determination.

She was not going to break on this one. Well, maybe I just had to change my strategy.

"If I tell you mine will you tell me yours then?" I propositioned. Although I wasn't sure if I wanted to give away the surprise of my own Halloween costume away.

"No." She shut me down with that mischievous grin on her face.

_Maybe I could fuck the answer out of her._ I was sure as hell willing to give it a good faith effort. Or a few good faith efforts.

"Not fair. I have to pick up body paint tonight after work though. Any recommendations?" I requested.

I fucking loved Halloween and I was so excited for my costume that it was ridiculous.

"I'm not a body paint connoisseur." She was trying to hide her own curiosity, I could tell.

"Better study up then, because you'll be the one painting me." I informed her with a wink, leaning farther over the desk.

I watched in interest as her eyes traveled down to my lips.

_This woman could give me a run for my insatiable money._

"I'm warning you, Santana, if you're thinking of being an Avatar, you have a better chance of getting laid as a smurf." She lowered the volume of her voice to warn me.

_The whole sexing trees with the hair thing must be a turn off for her. _

I shot her a look as if to say "yeah, right." After the past few days, I was pretty confident that I could get into those painter overalls even if I dressed up as the giant purple people eater.

"I'm not going to be blue, but does this mean that you'll be crashing in my bedroom on Saturday night?" My lips spread in an inviting smile.

I wanted to start a new Halloween tradition that involved the intertwine of our limbs. And while I knew that my girlfriend enjoyed sleeping with me, I also didn't know where all of our secret relationship lines were yet.

"I don't know, San. I don't want people to get suspicious." Her shoulders sank as she shook her head.

My heart fell slightly at her hesitation. Not that I hadn't expected it to a certain extent.

I almost wished that I wasn't hosting the party. At least then I could take Quinn home to my bed at the end of the night.

"People think we're close friends. It isn't weird for us to sleep in the same bed. If you don't sleep there, I'm sure one our other friends will." I rationalized.

We were high school girls, we could sleep in the same bed without other people automatically assuming that we were getting it on.

"If you think that you can…" She threatened, and I rolled my eyes at her.

These misunderstandings were getting old and tired. If the girl would just give me a chance to explain before shooting right to anger, it would solve so many of our problems.

I didn't mean that if she refused to sleep with me that I was going to invite someone else into my bed. _Really, was I stupid?_

"Don't jump to conclusions. I'm not trying to make you jealous. I'm trying to point out that it wouldn't be suspicious. But whatever, I'm not going to push you." I resigned myself to defeat. The ball was in Quinn's court yet again.

The bell clanged as the front door swung open, diverting my attention away from my girlfriend.

"Tana!" Sadie cried in excitement, and she was hugging me before I could even recognize her face.

I smiled at the familiar voice and mane of red hair before pulling away from the hug.

She hadn't been at work in at least a couple weeks. I had missed her HBIC ass, and our boss never had much information as to where she was. We hadn't really spoken except for work purposes since I broke things off.

During the summer, she had explained that she wanted to go to community college somewhere until she could get her dancing career to take off, but that was all I really knew about it.

"Long time no see, stranger." I greeted her in return, and was instantly aware of the pair of hazel eyes burning into me.

"Oh, hey to you, too, Quinn. And yeah, sorry about that, Santana. I didn't have time to give any notice before I left. I've been taking advantage of any auditions and opportunities that I can find." She explained her recent absences, barely glancing at Q when she spoke to her.

"That's okay. It's not weird for me in the slightest to have to dance with 4'8 boys." I joked with a shrug, and she laughed sympathetically in response.

I was very much ready to do the demonstrations again with someone that I didn't have to squat down to dance with.

"Do you mind if we talk privately for a few minutes before our class starts?" She made her request, glancing once again briefly in Quinn's direction.

I didn't bother to look at Quinn before responding. I knew which dark expression was going to be on her face, and honestly, I didn't want to deal with it. I wasn't doing anything wrong. It was okay for me to have friends.

"Sure. I don't think our classroom is occupied right now." I agreed, heading in the direction of our dance space.

"Great." Sadie chirped behind me.

* * *

"So what's up, graduate?" I inquired as soon as Sadie closed the door after us.

The redhead took a deep breath, and I felt a twinge of guilt in my stomach. Sadie had made all of these efforts to support me and go to my events over the past few months, and I hadn't even bothered to attend her graduation in June. She never mentioned it, but I knew that it was a dick move on my part.

"Puck invited me to your party this weekend." She educated me. She didn't quite look nervous, but there was something wary in her body language and tone.

"Awesome. You should come." I encouraged.

I had missed my friend, and my Halloween party was going to be legendary. Sadie was always a good time, and my friends, well save for Quinn, were going to be very happy to see her.

"It wouldn't be weird for you? I know I've been really distant since we broke up, but I miss you and I would really like to start hanging out with you again." She asked with genuine concern.

"No, it wouldn't be weird. I've missed you too, Sadie." I smiled at her in my attempt at reassurance.

_Okay, maybe that's a little bit of a lie._ But it wasn't going to be weird on my end.

"And it won't cause issues between you and Quinn?" She inquired further, and my eyebrows knitted together in response.

_What does she know? _

"No. She doesn't have a say in my friendships." I stated simply. It was the truth.

"Even now that you two are together?" She tugged at some of the curls nearest to her face. And there was the bomb. I shielded my face from reacting too visibly.

"We're not…it's not…" I stuttered.

_God,_ I didn't want to lie to her. After what I did to her, she deserved more than that. Especially when she was standing here, looking worried about the well-being of my relationship with someone else.

"She's still hanging with the coats in the closet, isn't she?" She accused, crossing her arms beneath her chest._ Hey, that's my move._

"Quinn's straight." I lied.

I was in a corner. I didn't think I had any other choice but to lie.

_So. Not. Straight._ _Straight girls did not moan at the sensation of my walls tightening around their fingers._

"That was _almost_ convincing. You better work on it though since it is a lie you'll only have to tell more frequently the longer you're with her." She criticized and I felt my eyes darken.

I felt guilty for what I had done to this girl, but I wasn't going to allow her to pose any threat to Quinn or to my relationship with her.

"I'm glad you're back and all, Sadie, but this conversation is over." I asserted, and began to shift on my heels to walk away.

"Wait…I'm sorry. I'm worried about you, that's all. I promise I won't tell anyone." Her voice stopped my progress away from her. Her apology seemed legitimate, so I turned back around to her. I needed to at least make sure that she meant that promise. She opened her mouth to speak again.

"See, I've only had real feelings for two people in my entire life. The first girl, I dated off and on for two years. I kept naively hoping that she would eventually be ready to be open about us, but that day never came. It wore me down until I eventually broke, and after that, the more casual things were, the better. And then there was you, Santana." She offered me a sad smile. Her blue eyes were haunted in a way that I had never seen before.

I knew Sadie wasn't the relationship type, but she had never told me why. _Damn._

_Why would she think that I was a proper person to take that leap again for? _

Two years was a long time to wait for someone.

"I'm sorry that I was such a shit girlfriend to you." I apologized sincerely.

"You weren't shit. You were just never really mine." She declared as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

_Jesus, did everyone know that I've always been madly in love with Quinn Fabray? _

"Why did you even want to try things with me then?" I asked her a different question instead.

I couldn't imagine going after someone for a relationship when you knew that person's heart belonged to someone else.

"I waited two years for that other girl to come to her senses. A real chance with you was worth waiting for. I don't regret it." Her response was heartfelt, and so very sad.

"How could you not?" I didn't understand. Not at all.

"I made my own decisions. From the first day that Quinn started here I knew where your heart was. But, I've been with the girl who wants to keep everything hidden and who will do anything to pretend that she is just like everyone else. I guess part of me thought I could help you avoid that pain. And I really liked you. And, you know, you're smokin' hot." She flashed her white teeth at me in a broad smile.

She had been trying to help me. _How sweet._

It was no coincidence that she countered her seriousness with humor, just like I always did. We were very much alike in some respects.

"I should have never allowed things to progress in the way that they did." I murmured regretfully. I never meant to hurt her.

"I wish you wouldn't say that. I enjoyed myself, and I think we could be a couple of hotass friends." There was that serious humor mixture again, and with that, her smile forced mine.

"I could be down for that." I agreed with a wave of my eyes.

"And if you are ever allowed to talk about it, or if you ever need to talk about it, I'm here." She finished our conversation with a somber tone.

"Thanks, Gingy." I nodded at her with gratitude before I turned to wipe down the mirrors before the kids showed up.

_Was I ever going to be allowed to talk about? Surely, eventually, right?_

* * *

"I'll see you next week, Toby. Don't be late next time or I'll make you do rudimentary drills for the whole half hour!" I threatened as the mop headed brunette rushed out of the room.

After dance class, Toby was my last drum student of the day, and I was so ready to go home.

I try not to punish kids for their parents' mistakes. When I was younger, I had to run many an extra lap because my parents were always forgetting about my practices or lessons. Well, my mom was, my dad was never active in that department.

But Toby had been late because he was lost track of time horsing around in the gymnasium. He was a good kid though.

My head twisted toward the slamming door, and I immediately recognized the click of the lock. Quinn tore my drumsticks out of my hands, threw them with an unknown force across the room, and almost knocked me and the stool over when she slammed herself down onto my lap.

Her lips were crashing into mine before I could question any of it. It was a rough kiss, even for us. She was biting my lips at every opportunity, and her tongue seemed to be on a mission to cover every centimeter of my mouth.

It was a total head and body rush. I was so game for whatever this was.

But, when she bit my tongue in a far from pleasant manner, I had to shut that shit down.

I yanked my head back from hers with a glare.

"I've told you that I like a little pain, but some pain, I have to be pretty close to orgasm in order to endure, capeesh?" I outlined, but I recognized that there was far more irritation burning in those hazel eyes than there was in my brown.

_Ah, so it was an angry kiss. Great. _

"I'm going home. Goodnight, Santana." She dismounted, and I swore for an instant she was tempted to kick my high-hat over. _Better not. _

"Okay, crazy. Don't forget to take your medication tonight." I called after her, climbing out of the awkward straddling position that she had forced me into.

_Probably too far._

I didn't think she actually was on anything, but she _was_ acting particularly crazy.

I wasn't in the mood for the guessing game tonight, and if she wanted to go home alone, that was fine with me. She could cuddle her own crazy ass.

"You're unbelievable." She spun around to combat me.

"What am I missing this time? Or shall I say, what ridiculous assumption are you blowing up over this round?" I strutted to the other side of the room to retrieve my abused drum sticks. They were one of my favorite pairs. _Ass. _

"No, no assumptions. I didn't have to make any leaps of judgment when I was standing right next to you as you fucking flirted with Sadie. Oh and then you go off and shut the door to your own personal fuck studio so you can do who knows what else." She raged as I bent down to retrieve one of my sticks behind a stack of speakers. I was sure that her blood was draining out of her hands, her nails digging into her palms. I knew that without even looking at her.

I rolled my eyes even though she couldn't see them, and I took a very deep breath.

"I wasn't flirting. I haven't seen her in weeks, and we hadn't had a real conversation since we broke up. Puck invited her to the party on Saturday and she was making sure it was okay with me if she came." I explained half-heartedly, searching for my other stick.

I didn't deserve this. I didn't do anything wrong.

"And you said?" Her question was an accusation. She already fucking knew what I said.

"I said that it was okay." I responded, sighing in frustration over her, and over my inability to find my second stick.

"Because you like making me crazy?" She growled, and I could hear her begin to move in my direction.

"No, because I would like to be friends with her. Will you grow up a little here? Haven't you noticed that I'm constantly swimming in a pool of your exes-Puck, Finn, Sam-but I don't go around throwing fits about it?" I slammed my hand down on a speaker. _If I can't find this stick, I am going to be pissed_.

Sure, if Sam so much as hugged Quinn, I would feel that jealous fire, but I wouldn't take that out on Quinn. Well, at least not in any form that she wouldn't enjoy thoroughly.

Possessive Santana dealt with jealously by having very hot sex. Possessive Quinn liked to yell, and apparently throw drum sticks.

"Sadie has always wanted you." She defended.

"And I've always wanted you, Q. She's not going to try anything." I shot back. It was a simple truth, but it was all that mattered to me. Sadie wasn't a threat to Quinn. _No one was._

"And why the hell would she suddenly not try anything?" She of course failed to focus on the most important part of my statement.

"Because she knows her and I don't work, and because she thinks you and I are together." I finally found my drumstick and turned just in time to see an infuriated and now panicked Quinn squeeze the material of her overalls into two tight fists.

"She what?!" She screeched.

"Before you start, I didn't say anything. In fact, I lied to her, but she didn't buy it. We don't have to worry though, because she isn't going to tell anyone." I wanted to take that red face of hers into my hands in an attempt to calm it, but I was too fed up with her at this point to do so.

_ I lied for her._ I lied for her to the people that I cared about and she had the audacity to treat me like this. It was ridiculous.

"And how do you know that?" She started tapping her foot in the way that never fails to drive me crazy. And not in the good way.

"She promised that she wouldn't, and I trust her. She's been in a relationship like this before; she wouldn't out you like that." I explained. It probably wasn't my place to tell Quinn about Sadie's past, but I selfishly just wanted this conversation to be over with.

"Should I get you some ginger pom poms for Halloween, San? That way you can keep this cheerfest going for Sadie." She snarked, and I could only grimace at her tone.

Sometimes I could have sworn this woman hated me rather than loved me.

"You're acting a mess right now. I understand why you don't want to be open, Q, I do, but why the hell don't you recognize that your reasons for not being open are not my fault? Don't take this shit out on me. I don't deserve it." I met her hazel stare with a dark stare of my own.

I was close enough to her that I could feel her body heat. It didn't give me the comfort that it normally did. _Far from it._

Without another word, I took my thrown drumsticks with me out the door, and I headed home.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter XXXIII**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Santana used to be a selfish straight up bitch. She had been an easy target for hate, once upon a time, because she was the perfect storm of a villain. _Manipulative, seemingly heartless, cunning, and without remorse. _

_My _Santana, however, was secretly selfless, and sweet, and purposefully cognitive of how her words and actions would impact others. She was a defender and protector of the weak. She was a courageous leader and a loyal friend. She allowed others to shine when the spotlight was all hers for the taking.

I loved her far more than I could ever convey in words.

She made my life so much better. Her love made me less dependent on extrinsic praise and accomplishments. Instead, every good thing that happened to me was merely a bonus rather than something that I depended on to feel good about myself.

She noticed things within me that no one else had ever bothered to take note of. She challenged me, supported me, and drove me to greatness.

_How could anyone ever compete with that? They couldn't._

She was without comparison.

I had wanted for her to be all mine for as long as I could remember, far before I even knew what that meant.

These days, I was super sensitive about anyone even beginning to encroach onto what was mine. I had to watch others have her for years. And now, I still couldn't declare publicly that she was not up for the taking. I was her person, and she was mine, but no one else could know that but us.

I spent all of last night tossing and turning over our big work blow out. I spent most of the night contemplating how I was going to apologize and how I was going to make it up to her. I couldn't compare to her three weeks of truths. I couldn't compare to the heavenly cave she had created under the porch. I didn't have a crown to give her, or a captainship to offer.

_Holy shit, what this woman has done for me. _

I knew what I _was _going to do, but it still didn't seem to be enough. And throughout the next day, I couldn't find the courage or the proper timing to do it. I let that awful silence hang between us, because I didn't feel worthy.

She had been right. I was so proud of her, and grateful for her; she had nothing to do with why our relationship needed to be secret. One would have to be a complete idiot if they weren't proud to be dating Santana Lopez.

I was competing to be the top of our class. Competing with my girlfriend, ironically enough, so I was definitely not a complete idiot.

Although, sometimes, it seemed like I acted like it.

I lashed out at the person who deserved it the least. My out and proud and comfortable girlfriend was being so patient with me and supportive of me and in return I treated her like she was purposefully trying to force me out of the lavender closet.

_Which she wasn't. Not by any means._ She was being completely understanding of my situation.

Sadie was a threat because she was open like Santana. But, Santana had broken up with this girl before I ever became an option. I knew I was being ridiculous, but at the same time, I wished I had truly absorbed Santana's punching tips in case I needed them for later.

Santana hadn't said one unnecessary word to me all day, not that I blamed her. I wished that I had her charm. _Desperately_. Then I could flash her the sort of smile that she would give me that always melted me, and all would be right in the world again.

I needed to find a proper way to approach her to apologize. We needed to be alone, obviously, in order for me to do so, but I couldn't find the right moment to ask. Text didn't seem good enough in this situation even for a request to apologize.

My apology probably wouldn't be good enough. Believe it or not, but my girlfriend, Santana Lopez, was the romantic one. It wasn't just her grand gestures like the night under the porch, my crown, her three weeks of truths, or that marching band performance that made me swoon now just to think about it.

She was a master of the little things too. She would leap over the back of the couch to find me a blanket at the first sign of a shiver. She would arrive to practices with my favorite caffeinated beverages. She would massage my calves after Sue ran us silly without me even having to ask. She would feed me constantly. She would answer for me in class when I was too busy staring at her to pay attention.

She didn't call me stupid shit like "cuddlekins" or "pookie" or any other sickeningly sweet nickname that would probably cause bile to rise in my throat, but she did treat me like a fucking queen.

_How could I compete with any of that? _

She had given me so much, and what had I given her in return?

_My heart? My ovaries? My stupid fucking attitude? _

"I'm going to fail my Geometry test." Brittany groaned, bonking her head purposefully on the door of my open locker, almost shutting it in the process.

"Have you even studied, Brit?" I huffed, unable to sort through my thoughts adequately enough to figure out which books I needed to take home for the weekend.

"I thought we only had to draw shapes, but Mr. Greer wrote on my last exam that my shapes were 'inaccurate, inappropriate, and irrelevant'. He told me I needed to find a tutor and a psychiatrist." She recited, and before she was done explaining I had determined which books I needed.

It was a heavier load than usual, so I was sure to slide them carefully in my backpack behind the brown paper bag wrapping that was supposed to be a part of my apology to Santana.

Imagining what sort of inappropriate shapes Brittany had drawn on her paper in lieu of relevant and accurate shapes was almost enough to make me smile.

"How can I help?" I offered despite the fact that my mind was clearly set to channel Santana.

I knew Santana was worried about Brittany graduating, and frankly, so was I. We didn't want to leave her behind.

_Who would be here to protect her once we were gone? _

"Would you go over the last homework assignment with me? Mr. Greer said we could use his classroom." She pleaded with wide blue eyes.

I couldn't say no, and Santana was probably half way home already anyway. I resolved to call her as soon as I was done helping Brittany.

"Sure, Brit." I agreed, and followed her with a sigh down the hallway and into the designated classroom.

She paused outside of the door, sweeping her arms in a grand romantic fashion to signal me inside the propped open door. I chuckled softly at her antics, gripping the straps of my backpack to step inside.

I lost my breath upon entrance, as I had lost it so many times before.

Santana was seated in one of the front desks, twirling a compass absent-mindedly on the notebook in front of her.

It had been a couple years since Santana or I had taken Geometry since we had both been on the accelerated track for math and just about everything else since we were elementary school. I remembered how furious Mr. Greer would get our freshman year when Santana would fit the entirety of her homework on the first two lines of her paper just to piss him off.

He had thought that she did it so that he couldn't tell if her diagrams and answers were correct, but she proved him wrong the day she plopped a magnifying glass down onto his desk. Her miniature drawings and calculations were flawless. Even when I hated her, I had thought that that particular antic was hilarious.

I tilted my head as I studied the forlorn expression on my girlfriend's face. I had done that to her. _Ugh. _

The triangle door stopper came skidding to a halt on the ground near my right shoe as the door clicked shut behind me.

_This is a trap. _

Santana's head popped up and her eyes darted forth between Brittany and me.

"You didn't tell me that Quinn was helping you, too." Santana scolded the tall blonde, but didn't look in my direction after doing so.

"Please have a seat Ms. Fabray." Brittany mimicked a professional tone and gestured to the seat neighboring Santana's.

Brittany took her own seat behind Mr. Greer's desk.

Before I could decide whether or not to sit down, Santana had vacated her own seat and was wiggling the handle of the door.

"You locked us in here, B, really?" Santana gave Brittany a look of reproach.

_Shit. What? _

"In this room, and at this desk, I am Dr. Pierce, and this will go much smoother for the both of you if you take your seats." Brittany, or Dr. Pierce if you will, retrieved a pair of familiar glasses from her backpack and placed them over her eyes.

"Are you really wearing Artie's glasses right now? I agreed to meet you here to help you, Brit, not to fucking roleplay." Santana growled, but her usual malice was muted. Santana could never truly go full on HBIC on Brittany.

I blanched at Santana's word choice. I wouldn't be surprised if the two of them had participated in such activities. I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment to erase any images of the two of them costumed together that threatened to flood my mind.

"Please, just do this for me, San." Brittany broke character to plead with her darker skinned friend.

_That was the kill shot. _

I needed to learn how to do that.

When Santana sulked back to her seat, I made the decision to seat myself as well.

"Thank you kindly ladies. You came here to help me, but I will be the actual helper. We are not leaving this room until we have fixed whatever the issue is between the two of you." Brittany detailed, and continued the presentation of the role she was playing.

_Oh god. _

"We're fine, Brittany. This is really not necessary." I asserted, resting my hands in my lap to prevent myself from gripping the desk too tightly.

_Did she know? Did she lock us in here to tell us just how much we had hurt her by sneaking behind her back? If Sadie told her about our relationship, I was going to cut that ginger's throat. _

"Shoot. I guess the honesty charm that I cast on this room has faded." Brittany wobbled behind the desk as she gazed around the room like a ditzy maniac.

In her own crazy way, she had just called me a liar.

"Those glasses are going to give you a headache, B." Santana warned with her arms crossed.

"They're supposed to make me see better but everything is fuzzy." Brittany complained.

"That's because you don't need glasses." Santana rolled her eyes, as Brittany squinted behind the thick lenses.

_Poor Artie was rolling around blind somewhere. _

"I'm not going to let you distract me from our purpose here, Ms. Lopez, but that was a nice attempt of deflection." Brittany wiggled her face until the glasses slid partially down her nose.

_Who taught her that word? _

She was part genius though. Luring both of us here under false pretenses and all. As Santana would say 'well played, B, well played'.

"Someone needs to make the two of you talk to one another. This ignoring each other thing that you do every few weeks is uncomfortable for me and everyone else who is around. I won't spend another couple months of only getting to see one of you at a time like I had to this summer." Brittany outlined the reason for her objection to our current state of communication.

I had enough guilt on my shoulders right now; I didn't need our fight's impact on our friends tacked on to that. But, I did feel a great wave of relief wash over me now that I knew that this wasn't a discussion of our romantic relationship.

"We learned in Chemistry that oil and water don't mix unless there is something like vinegar there as well. So I'll be the vinegar. Let's do some mixing!" She clapped, and Santana and I groaned almost simultaneously.

_Okay, that was kind of endearing. _

I was waiting for Santana's typical "wanky" response, but it never came. She just looked uncomfortable and apprehensive. It hurt my heart to see her like this, and to know that it was my fault.

"Let's start with you Ms. Fabray." She pointed her eyes in my direction, and I swallowed.

_Why did I feel like I was in trouble? _ Brittany wasn't actually a counselor or a psychiatrist or whatever she was trying to be.

"Quinn. Please." I requested, and she smiled at my decision to play along. _For now, anyway. _

"Okay Quinn, why are you upset with Santana?" She peered over her glasses, crossing her arms at her wrists.

"I'm not." I deliberately did not check Santana's expression to my left as I answered. I couldn't hide my emotions if I was going to look at her right now.

_I wasn't upset with her. I was upset with myself. _

"Then why have you avoided speaking to her all day?" Brittany accused.

I let out a deep breath. _Whatever_, Brittany was being stubborn. I had to give in if I had any hope of ever leaving this room.

Santana's ex-fuckbuddy was unknowingly attempting to help us fix our romantic relationship. _Oh my god the irony._

If she would just leave us alone here I would repair the damage on my own.

"Because I treated her poorly, and I haven't been able to find the right time or way to apologize for it." I responded truthfully, and I could sense Santana shifting in her chair next to me.

_Could she hear in my voice how sorry I was? _I hoped so.

"Ah, I see. And how did you treat her poorly?" Brittany prodded for me to elaborate.

"I yelled at her for something that wasn't under her control." I responded vaguely while scrambling in my head to come up with some feasible non-romantic fight scenario in case she pushed me into a lie.

"And why did you do that?" Brittany questioned further.

I was glad that Santana was here. I knew if I was pushed too far she would step in, no matter how upset with me she was. It was a comforting thought.

"I don't know. It's just something that I do. I get mad at her over the stupidest shit, and I assume the worst in her sometimes." I expanded gloomily.

_This is not how I wanted to apologize. _

This conversation was just making me angrier with myself.

"You don't have any guesses? Do you think it could have something to do with how Santana was super mean to you most of high school and how now you're afraid she's going to be like that again?" Brittany guessed for me.

_Um, maybe? _

I shrugged, and focused my eyes on the bushes outside of the window.

"Santana is hot tempered and you are can be spiteful and quick to judge. That's part of the reason why you're oil and water. You can't fix who you are, but when you two _are_ getting along it's great. You are two of the most amazing awesomest fantastical people I have ever known, and combined you make this like spectacular superhero. But your friendship is more of a combustion than it is two puzzle pieces coming together that were made to fit perfectly." She waved her hands grandly as she attempted to explain the enigma that was Santana and I.

"Where are you going with this, B?" Santana couldn't summon a true glare at her blonde best friend, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

"I've never seen either of you as happy or as sad as I have the past few months. When it's happy you two make each other better. You make the Cheerios better. You make Glee better. You make our friendship group better. So we need to fix the sad." She explained as if it were that simple.

It was sweet how she thought we made everything better. _When we were getting along, anyway._

"And how do we do that?" Santana shook her head in exasperation with her mouth parted.

"We can't make you into puzzle pieces, when you're more like pretty bulldozers. But you can both work on apologizing when you've used your HBIC powers for evil against one another. Ignoring each other doesn't work, and you bring down the mood of the whole school." Brittany counseled, and I heard Santana's distinct sigh next to me.

I needed to help my girlfriend get out of here. She was obviously bothered by Brittany pressuring us into talking about our feelings.

I was going to apologize anyway, and if I had to do it in front of Brittany to get us out of this room, then so be it.

"I'm sorry, Santana." I twisted my neck to face my beautiful girlfriend.

She answered my apology with a soft smile, and I irrationally prayed that our strangely perceptive friend couldn't hear the butterflies swarming in my stomach.

"Great sesh, guys. I really do need help with Geometry though." Brittany celebrated with a shake of her torso, and popped herself up from the desk chair.

_Finally. _

I knew that I still needed to finish the conversation with Santana. _Alone._

"I'll come over Sunday, B." Santana declared, gathering her things to escape from her own desk.

"It's a date!" Brittany cheered, and my stomach didn't even twist at her use of the word 'date'. That was progress.

We all filed toward the door, but Brittany froze in front of Santana and me before we could fully reach our means of escape.

"Poop…" Brittany mumbled under her breath.

"Let me guess, you had the janitor lock the door from the outside, but you didn't think of how you were going to unlock it once it was time to release us?" Santana could read this girl with such ease.

Santana released a harmless sigh, swinging her backpack from over her shoulder to rest it on the floor, fishing out a credit card.

Without giving the tall blonde any notice, she yanked a bobby pin from Brittany's hair and shifted in front of us to get to the door.

I couldn't see around her back, but with a few rattling noises and some shuffling, the door was open.

Mercedes was right. My girlfriend was a Secret Agent. I had never even stopped to ponder how she had opened my locker so many times when I had never given her the combination.

"Actually Brit, do you mind going ahead without us?" I requested, and the tall blonde nodded enthusiastically.

"Only if you two promise to play nice." Brittany conditioned her departure.

"We promise." We answered in unison.

"Toodles until tomorrow night then!" Brittany cheered, and took a literal skip into the hallway.

Santana moved her foot, and allowed the door to close once again.

"That was…" Santana began.

"Weird I know." I finished for her, letting out a deep breath, grateful that it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

"About last night…" I jumped into my more in depth apology, while Santana took my hand, guiding me to an area of the room that couldn't be seen through the small window of the door.

Her hand in mine provided me instantaneous comfort. It hadn't even been twenty four hours since we had last touched, but I had needed it more than I could describe.

I refused to release her hand, tracing the lines of her palm with my thumb instead as she partially rested her butt on one of the desks.

"You already apologized, Q. It's like Brit said, we don't fit together effortlessly. We have to pave our own rough road, you know?" She smiled down at our hands as if her thoughts on the touch mirrored mine.

_Forgiving. _Let's tag that onto the list of why Santana was an amazing girlfriend. As if it needed any additions.

"You're worth the effort. I don't know if I've ever told you that." I admitted sincerely, finding such solace in those warm brown eyes.

It was nice to be able to look straight at her again.

"You didn't have to, I was already aware." She feigned cockiness in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood and I kissed the smooth skin of her cheek to shut her up.

"What are you doing tonight after the game?" I leaned into her knees, resting my hands on her bare thighs just below the hem of her Cheerio skirt.

Now that we were touching again, I wanted to touch her everywhere.

"Besides you, you mean?" She snarked playfully with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

I laughed at her crudeness despite myself. It wasn't as if she wasn't right in her assumption. I was hers to have. Or "do" as she so eloquently put it.

Thankfully, she was better with her mouth and hands than she was with her word selection.

I didn't dignify her proposition with a verbal response, I kissed her instead.

It wasn't as sweet of a kiss as I had planned, but I was far from disappointed by the way her tongue pushed adamantly for entry. I welcomed it with mine.

"I have something for you." I remembered, once her lips moved to my jaw.

"Oh I am well aware of that." She hummed into my skin.

I couldn't even force my eyes to roll. Not when her mouth reached the column of my throat.

"No, not like that." I corrected her as my eyelids slipped closed of their own accord.

"What is it?" She pried just as I was contemplating temporarily leaving the subject behind to focus on what her expert mouth was doing to my neck.

I didn't know why I had ever allowed clumsy, scratchy faced boys to do this to me, when this had been out there in the world.

"I'm kinda nervous about giving it to you." I confessed, and immediately cursed myself when she tilted her head away from my neck in concern.

"Why?" She questioned, and I could barely tear my eyes away from her luring lips to respond.

"Because it's not a Cheerio captain necklace, or a marching band, or a decked out porch, or a Prom crown…" Before I could rattle off anymore examples, she lifted my eyes to hers with two fingers hooked under my chin.

"Don't do that. We can compete on the field, we can compete in the choir room, we can compete in the classroom, but our relationship is not a competition. We're partners." She corrected me, and the authenticity I found in her eyes caused my heart to thud in my chest.

"That makes us sound like old butch lesbians." I teased with a giggle, but in reality I loved being her partner in crime, in love, and in life in general.

"But we're young, and hot, so it's fine. Now I wants me my present." She popped her shoulder up, tipping her head down to the side as she wiggled her fingers to prompt my gift giving.

_She is adorable._

With slightly shaky hands I retrieved the thin gift from my backpack that was wrapped in the brown paper bag material. I handed it to her without any further explanation.

She was careful about unwrapping it. Almost too careful, in my opinion, since I was waiting for her reaction with bated breath.

I frowned at the flash of puzzlement on her face, but I found instant relief in the broad smile that followed.

"This is from the night after the Powderpuff game?" She analyzed the pencil-only drawing that I had secured for her on a piece of museum board.

"Yes." I croaked out.

It was the image I had of her in my mind from when I had found her reclined against the windshield of Puck's jeep. Her hands were in motion on her thighs, and there was something haunted in her eyes.

For me, it was a glimpse of the real person behind the untouchable bitch façade. She had hidden herself away from the crowd that she ruled over, while listening to a band that most of them would hate, while demonstrating her private talent on her thighs. I found such beauty in that. _Such beauty in her. _

It was the night when I came to the realization that I wanted to be more than just friends with Santana Lopez.

"I look good. A little sad, but good." She appraised. From the wonderment on her face as she appraised my work, she must have really liked it.

"You always do...look good, I mean." I complimented sincerely.

_Was I blushing? Really? Seriously, this woman has had her head between my thighs before. _

"You're fucking talented." She breathed in appreciation, and I smiled self-consciously.

In an attempt to shake myself of my insecure state I retrieved the other part of my apology from my bag, holding it up in front of her face.

"Nightmare Before Christmas?" She borderline shouted in excitement, her eyes widening at the movie cover.

"Happy Halloween, baby." I whispered sensually against her lips.

I tilted my body forward for another kiss, smiling into her, because I noticed that she was protectively guarding my drawing with her hands between us.

* * *

Upon my entrance to the Lopez manor, I hung my costume in the front closet. I wasn't ready for my girlfriend to see it quite yet. My hair was already curled and pinned partially back because Frannie had insisted on doing it for "sister bonding" time since she was home for the weekend.

From the jeep in the driveway, I knew that Puck was at least here, and I knew Kurt was due to show up at some point to help with the costume and party prep as well.

As I climbed the steps to Santana's bedroom I was definitely aware of the delicious soreness that served as a welcome reminder of our activities the night before. _Three fingers._ _Three perfectly powerful dexterous fingers. _

I was the one who was supposed to be apologizing, but she seemed the most content when she was making me cum. _I couldn't really deny her that, could I?_

She knew how to push me past my limits without breaking me. When I thought that I couldn't take anymore, she would capably demonstrate that I could in fact take more. The following orgasms only seemed to get better.

Nightmare Before Christmas would never be the same. _Oo,_ _Halloween indeed._

_Whew,_ I already needed to find something else to focus on, or the secret part of our relationship wasn't going to make it through the night.

"This is fantastic. It's like I can see the mojo draining right out of you." Kurt's high-pitched voice was the first one I heard as I pushed into Santana's bedroom.

"Quinn, Quinn, come here, you have to see this." He waved me over to his position outside of Santana's bathroom door.

As I gazed into the doorway, I couldn't fathom what he wanted me to look at when Santana was standing in the bathroom in a thin dark red silk robe. _Those legs._

With all of the stories surrounding Santana's sex life, I had pretty much pegged her to be some kind of nymphomaniac. But now that I had experienced how amazing it could be with her, I would wear that title proudly myself.

I blinked my stare away, and was able to register a loud whirring noise, and also that something was different about my girlfriend.

_Santana has bangs._ They looked good. Different, but good. Her eyes were even more alluring now if that was possible. There were also long gold strands in her straightened raven hair. My curiosity was certainly peaked.

_Oh, and she was shaving Puckerman's head. _I wasn't at all surprised that that was the last thing that I had noticed about the scene before me.

"My mojo isn't in my hair. It's in my…" Puck countered and was motioning in the direction of his crotch when he was cut short by Santana.

"If you say penis or cock or any variation thereof, I will carve whatever word for your pathetic organ that you have chosen to taint my bathroom with, into your scalp." She threatened, and Kurt and I both laughed.

"Love you too, boo." He mocked, shrugging the towel off of his bare shoulders as Santana finished. As soon as she shut the shaver off his hand moved to his newly smooth skin.

"RIP Squirrel." Kurt dipped his head in feigned prayer.

"You almost look human, Puck." I complimented from outside of the door, and he flashed me his best debonair grin.

It was weird seeing him without it, but it was like he had matured instantly by the mere removal of it. Santana appeared to be very pleased with the results of her work as well.

"Duck might even happen tonight." Kurt taunted, and we all looked at him in confusion.

"Dakota and Puck…together…it's not that difficult team." Kurt explained while uniting two of his fingers to demonstrate.

_Ducks and Squirrels. Kurt was on an animal trip tonight. _

I didn't know that they were a thing. Or that either of them wanted to be a thing. That meant that I should probably warn Dakota.

Puck could be a great friend, but boyfriend? _Eek._ Santana and I were grooming her to take over the Cheerios once we graduated, and I didn't want to see her get mixed up with someone who could hinder her rise to greatness.

"There's no might. Look at this body." He boasted, flexing his arms and chest.

He did look more muscular since the last time I could remember seeing him shirtless. I was sure that Santana kicking his ass for their weekly runs had a role in that.

Kurt was the only one gazing in real appreciation. Santana waved a hand in front of the pretty man's face on her way to the vanity.

"Leering time is over, fancy pants. You can soak it all in when you're painting him." Santana jokingly chastised in order to get things into motion.

"Don't worry little man, I won't tell Blaine about you appraising the goods. Not that he could blame you." He assured confidently.

I loved how Puck could joke about things like that. Lesser men would feel the need to say something hyper masculine and threaten Kurt or something. Puck just used any attention he received as yet another boost to his ego. He didn't discriminate when it came to such things.

"You two are doing a couple costume?" I inquired as Santana pointed me to the array of paint that she had purchased.

She had obviously bought a few brushes as well, but I had brought some of my own just in case.

"You don't know what they're doing yet?" Kurt's laughter was devious as he caught on to my ignorance.

_ Okay, obviously Kurt knows. _

I shook my head to answer in the negative, and Santana handed me a large piece of paper with a picture of an Egyptian looking woman with very little clothing on.

_Oh wait, it wasn't even clothing. It was body paint. _

Santana dropped her robe before I could properly react.

"Santana!" I instantly gasped in a mixture of alarm and surprise.

The only thing that was covering her was a thick beaded leather band that wrapped around her hips and bikini area with a partially sheer cloth attached to it. There were two gold plates concealing her nipples and portions of her breasts. Swimsuits left more to the imagination than this getup.

She laughed cheekily at my reaction.

My heart was still pounding from the shock. It wasn't as if I hadn't seen her completely naked, but _everyone_ was going to see her like this.

_As if she didn't have pretty much everyone wanting her already. Jesus fucking Christ. _

"I know right?! It's like she's been photoshopped." Kurt praised Santana's body with great enthusiasm.

If our relationship hadn't just recovered from my last possessive freak out, I would have raged just then. But given those circumstances, and my promise to myself to reign in my little green-eyed monster, I had to suck this one up.

From the knowing smile on Santana's face, she was well aware of that fact.

_Yeah yeah, if we were playing chess, this is the point at which she would say "checkmate". _

"Where do you want me, Q?" Santana asked with that smirk of hers, as Kurt prepped on a nearby desk.

_Everywhere. Every possible surface. Every possible angle. _

_ My words. My words are gone. _

"Puck doesn't need much painting, so Kurt will be able to help you when he's done with Puck." Santana filled my silence with more information.

"Why can't I assist when Kurt is finished with mine?" Puck propositioned.

"I don't exactly trust the artistic talent of your meaty hands." Santana responded, studying my face with her eyes.

_And I don't trust his hands on my basically naked girlfriend. _

I tried not to glare at him, and took note of his outfit instead. His covering consisted of a cloth as well, although thankfully, it covered a much broader area than Santana's. It was almost a man skirt, now that I took a second look.

"What the fuck are you two even supposed to be?" I found my words, and I was grateful that they didn't come out quite as biting as they had been in my head. I sounded more perplexed than I did agitated.

"I am Anck-Su-Namun, and Puck is my Imhotep. You know, from the movie The Mummy." It was a struggle not to watch Santana's mouth as she said "Anck-Su-Namun". Even the name of her costume was hot. _And the way it rolled off of that tongue of hers in that voice…fuck. _

After her explanation, I could somewhat recall that particular movie. I was pretty sure that I would have remembered it far more clearly if it had turned me on anywhere close to this.

_They were some villainous zombified soul-mates or some shit. _

_ Did I care that they were dressing up as star crossed lovers? Honestly, a little._ I wasn't threatened by Puck romantically, but I was jealous that he could pretend to be her lover when I had to pretend not to be.

"So…where do you want me?" Santana repeated her question from earlier, catching the anxious glint in my eye.

"Here by the vanity is fine." I suggested finally, and gathered my materials to get to work.

I took a few minutes to absorb the picture she had given me. First, I basically had to paint a scale shaped mesh pattern over her chest and stomach. I wanted to start there to provide as much covering to her tantalizing breasts as soon as I possibly could.

I silently wished that Kurt and Puck weren't here.

_How am I going to paint my bared girlfriend's body and hide how appreciative I was of her form? _

Although, if they weren't present, I probably wouldn't have accomplished much painting. _Nope, probably not._

Dipping my brush into the black paint pool I had created, I went to work. I unsuccessfully pretended that she was an insanely smooth, caramel canvass, rather than the goddess who was the reason for the soreness between my thighs.

I refused to look up at her while I made my strokes. But, I knew she was loving this without having to see her face.

"I feel a little heterosexual just for saying this, but I'm slightly jealous of your paintbrush right now, Quinn." Kurt puffed out from beside me.

_What is it with gay men and boobs? _

_Actually, someone could be shrub sexual and still appreciate how beautiful my girlfriend's chest is. _

"We all are." Puck was in ardent agreement, and I had to fight the impulse glare once again.

Kurt was finished with Puck's paint before I had fully completed one side of my Santana's torso.

"I'm going to pop down and grab my costume from Puck's jeep, and then I'll be at your service Quinn." Kurt dropped his brush near mine on the vanity before he exited the room.

"Any leftovers?" Puck begged for food, and almost caused my current stroke to falter with his sudden proximity.

"Bottom left of the fridge, green container." Santana detailed with a shake of her head, and I almost had to order her to stop moving.

Practically naked girlfriend or not, I was still a perfectionist.

"Thanks, mistress." He called back before bolting out the door as well.

I didn't waste another second.

My paintbrush was down, and thanks to me, Santana's door was pushed closed and locked within mere moments.

I didn't take any time to view or study her reaction. Frankly, I didn't care.

I shoved the cloth of her barely there outfit to the side, pushing my middle finger directly into her folds.

This wasn't the time for foreplay. I needed to have her.

I stared deep into her brown eyes while I rubbed her clit feverishly, while deliberately avoiding any other contact between our bodies. I didn't want the paint to smudge.

She was definitely wet, because my finger slicked over her bundle of nerves with ease. It must have turned her on to watch me grow more and more heated with each stroke of my brush.

"Don't lean on anything. Don't move. Don't even sweat. Or you'll fuck all of my work up." I commanded fiercely, and her sexified brown eyes rolled back into her head.

Her noises were muffled, her teeth digging into the curve of her lower lip.

I stroked her clit without mercy and in complete abandon. I needed to make her orgasm as quickly as possible.

She was panting between bites of her lip, from the combined effort of having to stand straight and having to remain quiet.

The vixen came almost violently against my hand, quivering against my palm as she craned her neck back. Without pause, I inserted my finger into my mouth, reveling in her sweet tangy taste, with the knowledge that it would be awhile before I would get to taste her again.

After just a beat, I kissed her now puffy lips. I loved how her lips would swell slightly with her arousal.

I heard footsteps on the stairs far before I could get enough of her tongue on mine. With a reluctant and sexually frustrated sigh, I twisted the lock, detaching my lips to pull the door open once again.

_Decision made. I am definitely going to be in her bed tonight. _


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter XXXIV**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

After I somehow managed to get through painting Santana, I had to leave her bedroom in order to maintain some semblance of control over myself. I was honestly unsure if I was going to be able to get through the night. I never imagined that I would be so entranced by someone's body, but I definitely was by hers.

So while Santana was upstairs working on her facial makeup, and sliding on her golden accessories, I was pulling on my white dress in one of the downstairs' bathrooms.

Painting Santana had been so time consuming that people were starting to arrive before I could even finish my own makeup.

Santana had wanted this party to be stocked with our close friends without all of the typical randoms sprinkled in. I knew that part of that was an attempt to keep things low key since she was a tad paranoid about her mother's wrath, but even if she wouldn't admit it, I knew that as Santana matured, she was more concerned with spending time with the people that she cared about than she was concerned with her popularity.

That's how I knew that when the doorbell rang, it was either an unwelcome random, or it was Rachel Berry. Everyone else usually just helped themselves inside for these shindigs.

When the bell rang out once again, I set my red lipstick down with a huff. Santana was probably too busy bedazzling herself to care that there was someone at the door.

My assumption was proven correct when I opened the door to reveal Rachel in a white motorcycle jacket and black leather pants. Her hair was in curls, but I couldn't have guessed who she was supposed to be.

She was wearing that "please give me approval" trying-too-hard smile that she often did when she was around me.

"Wow Quinn, you look stunning. Very classic Hollywood of you." She appraised, and I returned her appreciative smile.

I silently hoped that Santana was going to feel the same way.

My smile disappeared, however, when I noticed Finn looming behind his girlfriend.

He didn't even appear to be in costume as far as I could tell, and Berry had a fistful of his shirt as if she had dragged him from her car.

The presence of her car was an oddity. Finn always drove the two of them around, and the absence of his pick-up on the street immediately seemed strange.

More pressing than his lack of pick-up and his lack of costume, was his presence here at all. As far as I knew, he wasn't on speaking terms with Santana.

"Thank you, Rachel, but I'm not sure about…" I expressed my anxiety concerning the ogre's presence at Santana's place.

I knew Rachel was known to miss some social cues, but Santana's current distaste for Finn was glaringly obvious.

"Finn being here? He is very sorry about what he said the other week. Isn't that right, Finn?" She looked up at him expectantly, and after spending a few seconds under her stare he gave a reluctant nod.

Something was off.

"In fact, he would like to apologize to Santana in person. Do you know where she is currently located?" She tilted her head to the side as she asked, and I definitely took note of Finn's disgruntled face behind her.

"She's upstairs finishing getting ready. I don't think that you two should go up there though." And I didn't. Even if Finn was going to be sincere, which it didn't appear as though that was going to be the case, Santana would not be happy to have Frankenteen anywhere near her bedroom.

"Oh." Rachel bowed her head in disappointment.

She didn't pout for long, however, and quickly moved past me to place her hand on the railing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Santana! This is Rachel Berry speaking, and I would like to alert you to my presence as well as the presence of Finn Hudson. We would both like to express our gratitude for you having us in your lovely home this evening and Finn would like to express his sincerest regret and apologies for his part in what transpired between the two of you." She yelled, every _single _word, from the bottom of the steps.

Finn, for his part, didn't even traverse the threshold of the doorway.

"This wasn't your idea was it?" I prodded him.

If he didn't want to be here, I certainly didn't want him here, and I knew that Santana wouldn't want him here either. It was still difficult for me to look at him, and remember the pain he caused Santana, without wanting to slap him across the face.

"No." He grumbled, and I swore I caught a whiff of something akin to rubbing alcohol.

That would explain why Rachel drove. Finn had started the party early.

After a few seconds without a response, Rachel tried again, and this time, she yelled even louder.

"We are both excited for the evening's festivities and we very much hope that…"

"Fuck off." Came Santana's distinctive voice from upstairs.

I could see Mike, Tina, and Mercedes immediately start to giggle from beyond the foyer.

"That's a green light if I've ever heard one." Berry nodded, slightly sad, while resting at her place by the railing.

I felt sorry for her. Her love anchored her to Glee Club's latest least favorite person, and she was trying her best, in her own annoying way, to make things right.

Before Santana, if I was dating someone who fell out of favor with everyone else, I would have dumped that person before first period the following day. I wouldn't have allowed anyone else to harm my reputation or my status. In fact, if Finn had lost starting QB before he broke up with me, I would have broken up with him first.

While she may have disagreed with what he did, Rachel wasn't ditching Finn and there was something admirable in that. Especially since Rachel was so desperate for acceptance. It kinda made me want to hug her. _Kinda._

With that in mind, when she waved Finn inside, I closed the door behind him without raising any further protest.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

It was quite the task for me to be excited about everyone else's costumes when all I wanted to do was stare at Quinn.

She looked elegant, and hot, and fucking flawless. She gave Marilyn Monroe a run for her money, and I decided that Quinn would look damn fine with short hair.

Despite all of the effort I went to for my own costume, I would not have complained one bit if everyone suddenly decided to go home.

Aside from my own sexual needs, my party was pretty kickass. Kurt's Tim Gunn from Project Runway costume and impression was hilarious, especially when he called after Blaine (his Andre).

And then there was the Kill Bill group of pure awesomeness. Brittany was the leader, as Black Mamba, decked out in the yellow jumpsuit. Artie was Bill, complete with the combed back hair and black jacket with brown patches. Dakota was Elle Driver, also known as California Mountain Snake, and while her blonde wig was pretty goofy, her eyepatch was great.

Tina was O-Ren Ishii/Cottonmouth, rocking her kimono with chopsticks in her hair. Mercedes had her hair in cornrows for her part as Vernita Green/Copperhead. Obviously there had been some racial typecasting for these costume choices.

Mike was loving his catholic school girl outfit, and jet black wig that made up his GoGo costume. After Rocky Horror and this, I was beginning to think that he had a thing for dressing in women's clothing.

As for Rachel and Finn, my plan for the night was to pretend that they didn't exist. Finn wasn't making that difficult, because he hadn't left the kitchen all night. Rachel, on the other hand, had her mind set on making peace between me and the teen giant. She was stubborn as hell, but I had no interest in making amends.

Additionally, I was kinda creeped out that she showed up to the party as Maureen from Rent after all of her Maureen comments on Prom night.

Quinn was laughing at something that Sugar (dressed as Cruella De Vil from the 101 Dalmatians, and I was pretty positive that she didn't have to do any costume shopping in order to pull the look off) was saying.

I was so happy to have Quinn as my own, but sometimes it would have been nice to be able to cross the room and kiss that cheek of hers when she was being so damn cute.

And then Quinn twirled, she literally twirled in that dress of hers, and I had to turn away. I ran face first into Mike's chiseled chest, which of course, was nestled under his catholic school girl jacket.

He chuckled and wrapped me into a hug. I crinkled my nose at the smell of Tina's perfume. He had really gone all out for this.

"I know it must be confusing for you when I'm like this, but I love Tina." He consoled me in a mock-serious tone, patting my exposed back as he did so.

"My god, you're an idiot." I laughed, and ducked my way out of the hug, immediately glancing down to see if he did any damage to my body paint. Luckily for him, he didn't.

"There there. We'll find you a non-taken girl to get with tonight." He continued his charade and patted my shoulder.

"I call dibs." Dakota raised her hand, although it was soon tugged down by Puck, since she was sitting on my newly-bald friend's lap.

"Not happening, Dakota. You're not even in the friend zone, you're like in the little sister zone." Mercedes chided from her spot next to the pair on the couch.

Mercedes was spot on. Dakota was nowhere close to being on my sexual radar.

Plus, I knew Puck had a bit of a crush on the girl, and I would never do that to him. Steal his fuck buddies? _Perhaps._ Steal someone that he actually likes? _Hell no._

Quinn wasn't goofing around anymore. Her eyes were fixed on me instead.

She didn't look irritated. In fact, her hazel eyes appeared to be a very similar color to how they did before she had her way with me in my bedroom earlier. My thighs clenched at the look, and the memory.

"Damn right she is." Puck agreed, playfully tapping Dakota's back with his forehead.

"But she's like a naked Egyptian Goddess!" Dakota squeaked out as Puck tickled her.

"Thanks, Kota." I laughed with a roll of my eyes, fighting the urge to lock my eyes permanently on my own goddess across the room.

The last few weeks had definitely tested my self-control, and I had done well so far, but I had no confidence in my ability to have less than a couple yards of space between us. Because of I couldn't actually approach her, I texted her.

**Santana:** **I wish we weren't surrounded by people right now. **

**Quinn:** **How come? **

** Santana: You look absolutely gorgeous, Q. **

** Quinn: You still surprise me sometimes, you know that? **

** Santana: What do you mean? **

** Quinn: I would have guessed you were going to say something sexual, but you went sweet on me instead. **

** Santana: I could always go sexual. Especially after what you did to me earlier. You felt really good. **

** Quinn: It was something that I needed to do. I still can't believe your costume. **

** Santana: You like it? And, I have a long list of things that I need to do to you. **

** Quinn: Like it? I think it's the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life. We are going to ruin the sheets with your body paint tonight. **

** Santana: Promise? We'll have to figure out a method of keeping you quiet. **

** Quinn: My loudness won't be the issue tonight, baby. **

And with that last text from her, I had to put my phone away.

Apparently, I couldn't text her either without teetering on the loss of control. I also couldn't stop the spread of a smile on my lips at the thought that she would be joining me in bed tonight. I wasn't sure what made her change her mind, but I was grateful for whatever it was that did so.

Mike caught my attention by pushing a drink in front of my face, while he swayed his skirted hips back and forth.

_My friends are such nerds. _

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

The party had been humming along for over two hours by now, and I was only a couple of drinks in. I feared that if I drank too much I was going to lose my inhibitions around Santana. We were consistently keeping a safe distance between the two of us, and I prayed that no one had noticed the glances exchanged.

It wasn't like the many days we had spent ignoring each other. It was more like close friendship from a distance. We were involved in some of the same conversations, but those conversations were never one on one. Except our brief text conversation, which only served to increase the burning heat between my thighs.

If only there was a way that we could sneak away for a while without anyone noticing. But, I was kidding myself if I thought that would ever work. I was usually a focus of attention, as was Santana. This reality was only intensified by her current state of undress. More than a few eyes seemed to follow her wherever her sexy strut took her.

My jealousy wasn't as out of control as I had expected it to be when I realized what Santana would be wearing (or not wearing in this case). She wasn't allowing anyone to be too handsy, and I took solace in the fact that my hands would be all over her in a few hours or less. _Oh, and how they needed to be._

Even Dakota's comment earlier didn't ruffle my feathers. Probably because she was at least partially joking, and because Mercedes was right about Dakota being like a little sister to Santana.

Now, had it been Brittany or Sadie making such comments, that would probably be a whole other story.

Santana had refrained from hugging Sadie when Sadie arrived, citing her body paint as the issue (although it hadn't come off when she had hugged Mike earlier). It was a small favor that I was grateful for. I had to forcefully reign in my HBIC when Sadie had whistled in a low tone while appraising my girlfriend's costume.

I deserved so much sex.

Sadie, for her part, found the only possible use for her gingerness and was dressed as Jessica Rabbit for the evening. Her dress was too lowcut and her sleeve-length purple gloves clashed with her hair. And that's all I have to say about that.

Currently, I was helping Santana prep for the next party game. She wouldn't give anyone any clues as to what the game was, but she was having us add chairs to the living room seating area to make one large circle.

As much as I _really_ wanted to stay and watch her bend over to pull the couch into the position she wanted it, I could feel Mercedes watching me with a smirk. I ignored my nosey friend, and proceeded to fetch myself another drink from the kitchen.

Just my luck, Finn was the only one lurking around the beverage selection. I attempted to make quick work of my own drink mixing, but to my disappointment he didn't disregard me as I was disregarding him.

"Will you go outside with me?" He requested before downing a shallow glass full of clear liquid. A clear liquid that I could only assume was vodka.

Upon emptying his glass, he immediately began using a bottle of Absolut to pour another drink.

He seemed off balance. His words weren't completely distinct from one another, and it was almost as if he couldn't stand completely still. Normal drunk behavior, sure, but something about his current state unnerved me.

"No. It's cold outside. Don't you think you've had enough to drink, Finn?" I cautioned, eyeing his glass and he raised it to his lips once again.

"You can give me a minute." He asserted with a growl, and my hands immediately went defensively to my hips.

"You're deranged if you think ordering me around is how you're going to get your way here, Finn." I snapped at him and snatched up my cup with the intention of leaving him to his solitary misery in the kitchen.

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's about Rachel? Please?" His tone softened, and Rachel's name struck a chord within me.

After our conversation with Rachel in the choir room that day about Finn wanting to stay in Lima for the rest of his life, I'd been worried that Finn was going to hold my exceptionally gifted friend back. I thought that maybe there would be a way for me to talk some sense into him concerning his current attitude, and the harm that attitude could be doing to Rachel.

"Fine. I'll get a jacket." I decided, and left him in the kitchen to do just that.

* * *

I had expected for Finn to be out on the porch like a normal person, but after calling his name several times I found him on the hilly grassy area beneath and to the side of the porch instead.

As soon as my heels hit the grass, he launched into whatever it was that he wanted to tell me.

"I'm sick and tired of being everyone's punching bag around here. I got so much shit when I broke up with you. I got so much shit when I lost QB to Sam. I got so much shit when I wasn't okay with Kurt hitting on me all the time. I got so much shit when I didn't want my mom to marry his dad. I got so much shit when we lost Nationals." He ranted, throwing his glass into a nearby bush as soon as he had downed it.

I made a mental note to find it later. I didn't want the gardener to say something to Santana's mom. Although I wasn't sure at what point during the year the gardener stopped making visits.

"I thought this was about Rachel." I interrupted him impatiently. I was not out here standing in the cold to listen to his whiny bullshit.

"It is. I love Rachel. I love her because she is the one person who has supported me through all of that. Whenever anyone else is giving me a hard time, she tells me how great I am." He took my direction and focused on the tiny brunette. Despite the slurring of his words, it was obvious that he truly did love her.

"Okay…" I responded, still waiting for the point of this conversation.

"But then she jumped on the "Santana is the greatest person ever" bandwagon along with the rest of you, and it pisses me off." He groaned, and I could have sworn that he was on the verge of stomping his foot as he did so.

I gave him an incredulous look. I was _so _not the right person to expect sympathy from concerning this particular dilemma. Sure, he wasn't aware that I was madly in love with Santana, but it was pretty fucking obvious that we were close friends. I was the proud president of that bandwagon.

"You're acting like a child right now." I criticized him, and regretted ever allowing him through the front door that night.

"I remember that look. Is that how they taught you to look at your boyfriends at church camp?" He sneered down at me, and I instinctively took a step back.

"You're not my boyfriend." I responded without forethought. He was drunk, but I was pretty sure that he aware of that fact.

"And why do you think that is? I bet you think that I should have been grateful for the title. You were head Cheerio, and the prettiest girl that most people in this town will ever see. I shouldn't have cared that you were disgusted by me as long as people knew that you were my girlfriend." When he took an aggressive step forward, he more than closed the distance I had created with my step back.

I wouldn't have admitted it at the time for anything, but he was scaring me.

"I had good reason to be disgusted by you, Finn. You knew there was a hole in that condom and you still used it without telling me!" I shot back.

When I had told him I was pregnant, he had looked so fucking guilty. Not just guilty in the "I knocked you up" way but in the "oh shit, I really messed up" sort of way.

I didn't have to grill him long to find out exactly what that look meant. I was livid. I had told him that we were never having sex again. Not that I wanted to have sex with him again anyway.

"It was the only one I had with me. If I had told you, you wouldn't have let me have sex with you. It wasn't like you would have jacked me or a blown me. That was always too far beneath Quinn Fabray." I wanted to smack the condescending look off of his dopey face. _How dare he._

I mean, in a way he was right. But it wasn't just the idea of touching his genitalia that had grossed me out. I didn't want to put my mouth or hands on any penis. That probably should have been some sort of gay indication, now that I thought of it.

"You risked my entire future because of a possible case of blue balls?! You're a selfish idiot!" I snarled at him.

"Rachel used to look at me with adoration, and now I might as well be dating the Queen Bitch again." He snarled right back, leaning over to bring his face closer to mine.

He wanted someone to worship him. _Poor Rachel._

"I'm going back inside." I informed him, knowing that if I stayed out here, I was going to start screaming at him.

I twisted my body to do just that, but he grabbed my arm with a jerk to halt my movement, splashing part of my drink out of my cup.

"Am I that repulsive? Or do you just think that you're that much better than everyone else?" He glared down on me, his hand tightening further on my arm.

"You're drunk. Stop. Let go of me." I commanded, hoping that he couldn't hear the fear in my tone.

I had never seen him like this before. I had been there when he had lost his temper, sure, but nothing like this. This was dark, and he was thoroughly intoxicated.

"I've been inside of you. It's nothing special. The gates of heaven did not immediately open to let me in." He yanked me by my arm closer to him, until my body made awkward forceful contact with his, and my drink was knocked completely out of my hand.

"No. Finn. No!" I screamed, and I could feel his vodka breath on my face. I pushed against his chest with my unhindered hand, but he wasn't moving.

I thought about kicking him in the shin like Santana had done to that one hockey player on the YouTube video, but I really didn't trust my footing in these heels. Additionally, I didn't want to do anything that would piss him off more.

"Hey asshole! When a girl says no, take that as your cue to get your fucking hands off of her." Sadie's voice unexpectedly interrupted the scene between Finn and me.

We both turned our heads to witness her smash out the cigarette she had been smoking by the other side of the porch. She walked in our direction once she realized that Finn was not intending to release my arm.

"Mind your own god damn business whore."

It was a term I had used for her many a time, but that didn't mean that I was happy with Finn calling her that. Especially in that moment, when she was attempting to come to my aid.

Faintly, I heard the porch door slide open.

He yanked me once again, but this time it was to his side, as Sadie continued to move toward us.

"Finn! You're hurting me!" I cried, fighting against his much stronger form. I wasn't weak by any means, but I couldn't exactly compete with my ex-boyfriend's benching abilities.

Before Sadie could reach us, there was a blur of movement, and a quiet thud of feet meeting grass.

Santana landed in front of Finn and me, her hand touching down between her two bent knees in a perfectly feline crouching position that was completely unhindered by the slant of the hill.

She had fucking leapt over the railing of the porch.

Before I could really register what had happened, my arm was released, and Finn was eating grass. Her hand was pushing into his shoulder blade, while she was pulling his arm in the direction of the opposite side of his body.

Her dark eyes and expression of pure animosity made her look animalistic. Combine that with her costume and she was almost unrecognizable.

The scream of pain that followed from Finn's throat was enough to send chills down anyone's spine.

"Santana." I called her name softly, and she stopped the progress of his arm.

He was drunk and he was acting like a complete moron, but I didn't want her to break his arm.

"Are you okay?" She asked looking up, finally making eye contact with me. There was concern there now, instead of just fury.

I nodded, and she released Finn, plopping his arm down onto the grass, before moving to stand next to me. Sadie was flanking Santana's side before Finn was able to find his footing.

"Get the fuck out of here. Now." Santana ordered with a dangerous tone. I didn't have to look at my girlfriend to know that her eyes would be completely black.

He glanced up at the porch railing where many of our friends, including Rachel, were now standing. He brushed the grass off of his jeans, avoiding our three gazes.

"Let's go Rachel." He commanded, clearly attempting to hide his wince as he rubbed his shoulder.

"No. She stays. You go. Call a cab. Call your mom. I don't give a fuck. But you're not taking her with you." Santana corrected him, and I slid my hand into hers to prevent the forward propulsion that I knew was threatening to overtake her body.

"That's her decision." He argued, but continued to refuse to make eye contact with any of us.

"And I decide to stay, Finn." Rachel yelped from her place on the porch, and by the way her voice shook, I knew that it had taken guts for her to do so.

"You were always a loser anyway!" Finn insulted, and I squeezed Santana's hand forcefully.

"Start walking, dickhead. You're taunting death right now." Sadie warned, and I was positive that if I hadn't had Santana's hand clasped tightly in mine, she would have launched right at Finn.

Thankfully, he made the right choice, emitting some kind of frustrated ape noise before he finally began his trek around the side of the house.

* * *

**Santana POV**

My blood was finally set to simmer instead of boil.

Mike and Puck were kind enough to shoot some tequila with me after the whole Finn altercation.

We were on our fourth shot, and this one Quinn had promised to take with us. I was convinced that I would have felt much better if only I was allowed to place the salt on Quinn's collarbone instead of the back of my own hand, but alas, I could not.

Quinn was rubbing soft circles on my bare back to calm me down, not caring if the paint was smudging. I felt a little ridiculous to be honest. She was the one who had Finn's hand on her. She was the one he was yelling at.

And yet, I was the one she was attempting to soothe. I wasn't perfect. Not by far. But the reality of the situation was that if Quinn's comforting hand wasn't grounding me, I would be hunting that missing link in the evolutionary chain down.

Many a thing made this girl's red hot temper flare, but once I recognized that it was Quinn's screaming that we were all hearing from inside, I didn't feel like me anymore. I was a walking blaze instead.

I now understood the look that I saw in Puck's eyes the night he found me outside the back door during Prom. I understood why he couldn't stop slamming that hockey player's head into the car, even after it was clear that the player was done fighting.

I couldn't remember a time when I had been so consumed by anger. It scared the shit out of me.

If Quinn hadn't been there, once again, to call me out of it, I have no idea what I would have done to Finn.

"I don't know what has gotten into him lately." Mike commented in between shots, and admittedly his plaid skirt was definitely helping to bring me out of my dark place.

"Could we not talk about it?" Quinn requested, and Mike immediately flashed her a look of apology.

Rachel popped into the kitchen at one point to kiss my cheek and to hug Quinn. For once, she didn't open her mouth to speak.

When Quinn returned the hug without any hesitation, I wondered what I was missing. Surely there was a piece of this puzzle that I didn't have yet.

Brittany was our next kitchen visitor, and she draped her arms around my neck from behind me.

"We should do body shots. Those always used to cheer you up, Sanny." Brittany's sweet voice accompanied by her cherry scent hit me almost instantly.

It triggered a twist of sadness within my stomach. I used to find such comfort in her cherry scented hair. If Quinn had never existed, I think I could have loved Brittany once.

Body shots were not going to help me. I needed Quinn.

"I'm good on shots for now, Brit. How about we go start the game instead? Round everyone up for me?" I requested, and she nodded enthusiastically in response. That girl would do anything to make anyone happy.

"Anything for you, S!" She agreed and skipped her way out of the room.

"I need to steal Quinn for a minute, and then I'll meet you guys in the main living room." I told the boys, and neither of them made any moves to argue.

I took Quinn's hand as I had done many times before, and led her into the nearest bathroom.

I kissed her as soon as the door was closed behind us, and before my tongue could even find hers, she had pressed me hard against the door with her hands on my hips. She was careful not to initiate any contact between my skin and the white of her dress, but there was nothing hesitant or cautious about her kiss.

She whispered against my lips "I'm okay" over and over again between kisses, until I began to believe it. It was as if she knew exactly what I was feeling, and exactly what I needed to hear.

"I lost it." I whimpered into her mouth.

"I know, but you stopped yourself." She responded without judgment, as if I should receive some sort of award for not breaking every bone in Finn's body.

"No. You stopped me. If he had actually hurt you…" I corrected, but she cut me off with another searing kiss.

"I know." She acknowledged eventually, after leaving me breathless.

We mutually, albeit regrettably, decided that it was time for us to return to our friends. This woman had taken me all the way from fuming, to my current inability to keep a smile off of my face.

I put my hand over hers when she reached for the doorknob to turn it.

She sighed heavily.

"I want to, San, but we can't stay in here." Quinn husked, and I pressed a kiss at the base of her bare neck.

My smile grew at her tone, because it was evident that she really did want to stay with me.

But in actuality, I wasn't trying to get her to stay.

"Your lipstick, Q." I gestured with my eyes to the red smearing around her mouth, and she laughed before peering into the mirror to fix it.

She tossed a cloth at my own face and I realized that her lipstick was on and around my mouth and neck as well.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter XXXV**

**A/N: This is a shorter chapter than my usual, but I hope you still enjoy it. For those who have criticized me for not updating quickly enough, if I could write this more often, I really would. I love doing it, I have so many ideas for it, and I understand what it is like waiting for updates. School is really crazy for me right now, however, so believe me when I say I am not making any of you wait on purpose. **

** I still make time to read every review. They're great, and you are all great for taking the time to write them. Even if they're about dragons (I'm looking at you ItsCalledALanceHello). **

** And yes, I have a love for drinking/party games, and this chapter consists almost entirely of one of those games. If you have any questions, as always, feel free to contact me. Happy reading!**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

"All right kiddos, the name of the game is Psychiatrist. Tina, you are our Psychiatrist. Go take a seat in the foyer bathroom, and someone will fetch you when we're ready." I directed to my intoxicated peers. This game was a tad on the complicated side, and I could only hope that people were coherent enough to understand the rules.

I was reminded of this game after Brittany's "friend" intervention the other day, and I felt as though it was the perfect for a Halloween party since it involved not being oneself.

Once Tina had followed my instructions, I gestured to the circle.

"We are the patients. Tina's goal is to figure out what is wrong with us. She's going to determine our issue by asking us questions. Here's our problem. Our problem is that we are the person to our left. So, when she asks you a question, you answer how you believe the person on your left would answer. Easy enough?" I asked to the group.

There were a few hesitant nods, and some excited smiles. _Good enough._

"Now, I know that we know an unfortunate amount about one another, but there are some questions we are bound to get wrong. If someone answers a question about you incorrectly, say "Psychiatrist" which will signal everyone to change seats. From there, you will have a new person on your left." I continued.

"Don't answer questions like "what are you wearing?" or "what is your problem?" or anything that obvious. If it is questionable, I will let you know whether it is okay to answer or not. Oh, also Tina isn't in play. So if you're sitting on her right, you will be answering for the person on her left." I finished.

"Any questions?" I inquired.

After fielding a few questions, Mercedes brought a confused and apprehensive Tina back to the circle.

"All right Tina. You are our Psychiatrist, and it is your job to figure out what our problem is. You will do so by asking us questions about ourselves." I gave Tina the rules, and fielded a few non-giveaway questions from Tina before she felt confident enough to begin.

"Puck, are you depressed?" Tina dived right into a serious topic, clearly focused on some sort of medical diagnosis.

"Uh…no…not that I know of." Puck answered as Artie, and there was no "Psychiatrist" to be heard.

Although it was never a concern of mine, I was still relieved that Artie was not depressed.

After a few more mental illness questions, I guided Tina down a more personal route, pushing her to get to know us better to figure out our issues.

"This is hard guys…um, are you single?" She asked to Sugar who was answering as Joe.

"Yes, unless you count my eternal commitment to Jesus Christ." Sugar answered in her typical matter-of-fact tone, and more than a couple people sputtered laughter into their drinks.

I hid my own laugh in my hand, while Joe just sat there awkwardly.

"Okay…didn't know that was your thing Sugar, but good for you. When did you lose your virginity, Brittany?" Tina turned on Brittany next.

"Fourteen. Freshman year." Brittany answered without so much as a pause for Puck.

It didn't surprise me at all that she knew that tidbit. I wasn't sure if I had actually ever told Brittany that I was the one to take Puck's V card, but I was rather sure that everyone knew that. He wasn't a discreet man.

Puck brushed his shoulders off. _As if it was any good for him._

Tina narrowed her eyes, and appeared unsure as to where to go next. I offered her some further encouragement, and she inquired about siblings and other non-juicy things. We knew all of the boring stuff about one another. Most of us had been together since elementary school after all. Well, except for Sadie, but she hadn't had any questions geared toward her yet.

"Artie. Best kisser that you've kissed?" Tina jumped away from the completely safe questions. Quinn was the one directly on his left. _Oh this would be good._

That was an awkward question to ask an ex-boyfriend, but a tipsy Tina was a bold Tina. If Artie was answering for himself, I couldn't imagine that he would say anyone except Brittany. Brittany was a fantastic kisser.

"Sam." Artie answered with an unsure shrug, glancing rather obviously to his left at Quinn.

"Psychiatrist." Quinn mumbled apologetically even though Sam hadn't been able to make it to the party, and thus was not here to witness her apologetic tone.

Everyone proceeded to switch seats, although I had to rise first to take the lead. It was our first wrong answer of the night, but I was sure it wouldn't be our last.

"What the hell?!" Tina appeared to be even more confused. Probably because of Artie appearing to have kissed Sam, and the sudden movement of everyone after Quinn said "Psychiatrist".

I couldn't help but smile at Quinn's response after I found a new seat. I better be the best kisser she's ever kissed. I knew she was mine.

"Kurt, best kisser?" She repeated Artie's question, and the fashionista's eyes went wide. I didn't blame him for his unsure expression. He was answering for Puck, and even as Puck's best friend I didn't know how Puck would respond to such a question.

"Some MILF whose pool I clean." Kurt tried to answer with a straight face, and many a head turned in a not-so-subtle fashion in Puck's direction.

My Imhotep looked pretty fucking pleased with himself. _Oh gross._

If Tina wasn't confused before, she sure was now. To her credit, however, she continued on.

"Santana, best kisser that you've kissed?" She repeated Artie's question for me.

"Puck." I was answering for Rachel, and I didn't know who she had kissed besides Puck and Finn, and the choice between the two was a no-brainer in my mind. Puck was kind of a rough kisser, but he had his moments.

"Psychiatrist." Rachel cooed in what I could only guess was her attempt at a sexy voice. Then she winked at me.

_She fucking winked at me. _

I was beginning to think that this game was a bad idea.

But, to be fair, I had warned the girl that it was probably the best thing that was ever going to happen to her in that department. I was okay if she never referenced it again, however.

"Girl, you nasty." Mercedes chided, noting Rachel's wink, as we all shuffled to different seats.

Rachel wasn't even blushing. There was no shame in that Hobbit's game.

I hoped that no one noticed the fire of Quinn's glare that was directed at our little Jewish friend. Although, in my opinion, it was pretty hot.

Tina asked the best kisser question to a couple more people before I cut her off, and told her to ask a new question.

"None of you make any sense. Or you're having a lot of freaky make out sessions behind my back. What is going on here? Hmm…Wait!" She shouted suddenly, as if she had a completely novel idea.

She turned to Mike who gulped at the attention. I still couldn't look at him without wanting to laugh. I squinted my eyes at his bared legs. I couldn't see any hair. _Oh my god, he shaved for this! _

"You better answer this correctly, boyfriend. Who was the best sex you've ever had?" Tina's eyes were burning into him, daring him to answer incorrectly.

"Santana." He practically whimpered when he said it, and Tina threw up her hands in frustration.

His response was especially entertaining after our interaction earlier. If I were straight, Mike probably wouldn't be a horrible choice. He was a giving enough person, and he could move like no one else I had ever seen. Although I believed he had an Asian-only policy in the dating/sex department.

Sadie was on his left. And she did not cry "Psychiatrist". She smiled suggestively at me instead, and I didn't have the nerve to even look in Quinn's direction.

_Yup, this game may have not been the brightest idea._ But, in my defense, I didn't know that Tina was going to go so sexual with it. _Although, it is Tina._

_Well, that was an ego boost at least._ Especially with as much experience as I knew Sadie had.

The entire group laughed, even Tina. Well, save for Quinn. I didn't hear even a trace of her melodic laughter.

"Okay, clearly your problem is that you are a lesbian trapped in my ripped boyfriend's body." Tina gasped at her boyfriend which instigated further laughter in the circle.

"Nope. Keep trying Tina." I pushed her, and she launched into some questions related to music choices, and school courses.

She seemed to be catching on.

"Joe. Who is the prettiest girl at our school?" Tina questioned after a few rounds of "safe" questions.

"Quinn." Joe responded simply, answering as Blaine. Blaine didn't cry "Psychiatrist" and I couldn't have agreed with him more.

Quinn was, by far, the prettiest girl at our school. _And she was all mine._

"Aw, that's so sweet." Quinn murmured, careful not to look at anyone in particular when she did so. She was adorable, and modest as all hell.

"Favorite sexual position?" Tina questioned Mercedes, and if ethnic people could blush, my diva friend sure did. She had to answer for Kurt.

Mercedes looked to me as if she was pleading for me to give her permission not to answer. I smiled at her instead, refusing to provide her with an out of any kind.

"Oh my goodness, no. This is just…I can't…okay damn. Doggy style but like with two boys?" She made some type of borderline lewd motion with her hand before she covered her face.

Kurt brazenly cried out "Psychiatrist" and we were all running into one another, laughing, as we found new seats once again.

"Okay so, Mercedes is clearly Blaine or Kurt. And Kurt is Puck. Joe is Quinn, because you said you have one older sister." Tina surmised pointing to each person she named.

She scrunched her face in an attempt to figure more of us out, to no real avail. We were all different people by now anyway.

I told her to keep asking questions, and with a sigh, she focused on me.

"How many people have you had sex with?" Tina inquired with a smirk.

I forced myself to refrain from turning my head to the left at Mercedes. I wanted to study her expression, but even without any visual confirmation of what she was thinking, I was relatively certain that she hadn't done the dirty yet. Well, in any case, we were all about to find out.

"Zero." I laughed through my response. Mercedes remained quiet, which meant I was right. _Good for you, Wheezy._

I didn't think that she was necessarily waiting for marriage, but she had really strong beliefs, and I knew that at the very least, she wanted it to be someone that she loved. I respected that about her.

"You are a fucking liar, Santana Lopez, I know you've had sex with at least three people in this circle alone!" Tina called me out with a frustrated huff.

_Four, actually. _

"We should start a club." Puck suggested, and I openly glared at him, and mouthed a "fuck you" in his direction.

He, of course, mouthed an "already did" back at me. _Rude._

Brittany and Sadie appeared to be unfazed, sure, but Quinn excused herself to get drink refills. It wasn't anything that my girlfriend didn't already know, so I doubted that I was in trouble. I felt bad that it made her uncomfortable, however.

Sadie gave me a knowing glance, and I shook my head at her.

While Quinn was away, Tina mused out loud about who she thought each person was. She was catching on, but she hadn't figured out why we kept changing.

Once my girlfriend returned, Tina questioned Rachel.

"Do you think that you're the best singer at McKinley?" Tina challenged.

"No." Rachel pursed her lips. Sadie was to her left, and Sadie didn't even go to McKinley which made that an easy question to get right.

"I bet that was real hard for you to say." Mercedes jabbed at Rachel, and the smaller girl scowled.

There was no doubt in my mind that Rachel considered herself to be the best. Her confidence was admirable, even if it was fucking annoying most of the time. That was probably part of the reason why Quinn and I had targeted her for so long. Besides the Hobbit's awful fashion taste, she was an unwelcome reminder of just how unsure we were of who we were.

"Who in this circle do you wish you were more like?" Tina posed to Blaine, and my eyebrow quirked at the change in questioning. Sugar was to his left.

"Brittany." He answered, which I thought was a strange response. To my surprise, Sugar didn't call Psychiatrist. _Well done Blaine. _

Sugar and Brittany were both oddballs, although in different ways. Sugar often let harsh realities and judgments slip from her lips, while Brittany was far more likely to weave unbelievable tales from hers. Perhaps Sugar wished for a little less reality in her life. _I mean, who doesn't wish for such things? _

"Brittany, same question." Tina requested.

"A Santana and Quinn hybrid." Brittany answered for Dakota with confidence.

Dakota blushed and gave a slight nod. _Aw, how cute._ Quinn and I shared our version of a "proud parent" look.

"Quinn, what about you?" Tina asked next.

Quinn bit down on her bottom lip in thought, and instantly I wanted to cross the circle and capture that lip with my own teeth instead. She had to answer for Artie.

"Mike." She guessed, clearly not confident in her answer.

Who wouldn't want to be more like Mike after all? That boy had moves.

"Psychiatrist." Artie called out, triggering all of us to move once again.

Tina threw up her hands for what was probably the fifth time, and I decided to take pity on her. For the Psychiatrist, this game was much like being the only one not in on an inside joke, and that could be insanely frustrating.

With that, I made Tina leave us once again.

"Tina isn't quite getting it, so we're going to commence stage two. For stage two, we will not only answer as the person to our left, we will act like them as well. Take on their mannerisms, their voice, whatever makes the person to your left who they are." I explained, and the room was pretty much split down the middle as to who was nervous and who was excited for this development.

Kurt, who was directly on my right, slipped into character before Tina's ass even made contact with her chair once again.

He crossed one leg seductively over the other, pursed his lips, and bobbed his head in a sassy fashion from side to side. I was almost insulted by his impression of me.

Quinn was chomping on pretend gum, and twirling a pretend pigtail while taking on Sugar's persona. I was almost not attracted to her in that moment. _Almost._ But, then she grinned broadly when she caught me watching her, and I knew that there was nothing that could ever sever my attraction to the blonde.

Joe was gesturing jerkily forward as if he was trying to intimidate imaginary people passing by. Teen Jesus made me laugh real hard, even if Puck, who he was imitating, didn't seem to appreciate the joke as much.

"You guys look like a bunch of maniacs." Tina observed with a laugh, taking a long swig of her drink as if that would help.

"Maniacs? Careful now, or I will go all Lima Heights Adjacent on your ass." Kurt mimicked me with yet another bob of his head. _Oh god._ _I do not act like that? Do I?_

"Stop the violence." Blaine compelled as Brittany. He had an expression of pure wonder on his features.

Brittany giggled out of character in response. I flashed her a smile to show how endearing I thought her to be. After her Geometry ruse, I was extra grateful for my dancer friend.

"Music is the greatest weapon against violence. Does anyone want to hear me sing? Oh that was silly of me. Of course you all do!" Mercedes reveled in her chance to be Rachel.

I couldn't stop laughing at this point, and I glanced up to see that Quinn, too, was in the same position. _God how I love her laugh._

I loved how it vibrated against my skin when one of us would make a joke while our limbs were intertwined. I loved how husky her laugh would get after I gave her collarbone some attention. I loved how it would sound when she was floating in the land between orgasm and sleep.

"Are you all ever like, 'damn, I wish my dress was shorter'?" Artie injected as Sadie, and I choked on my beverage.

_That's it. It's official. My friends are hilarious. _

Kurt, as me, clapped my back rather hard as if to aid me with my drinking problem.

"Oh I definitely wish _your _dress was shorter. Easier access, and everything." Kurt pretended to eyefuck Artie as he made his point, and it was one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen.

I tried to swallow and glower at him at the same time. From his lack of recoil, it probably wasn't all that successful.

I was used to the whole "Santana gets around" joke, but I really did not need pretend Santana flirting with pretend Sadie. Not in front of Quinn.

"Oh darling, you can access _this_ anytime." Artie flirted back gesturing to his lap, as Sadie, and I began to cough.

This was just too strange and awkward, and it wasn't doing anything to assist my current inability to breathe properly predicament.

"Let me use my secret medic powers on this one, and I'll meet you upstairs in five." Kurt propositioned with a wink, and Artie ran a finger suggestively over his lips.

_There people go again with the secret powers garbage. Okay, okay, so I'm a rather private person. _

With one more cough and a couple sips of my drink, I finally fixed my coughing issue. My eyes found Quinn across the circle, and she looked far more concerned with my coughing state than the conversation going on between Artie and Kurt. It made my heart flutter. She was going to get so much sex.

"Can I watch?" Joe, as Puck, offered, and the vast majority of the circle laughed at his boldness. Teen Jesus was constantly surprising me.

"May I participate? I've been ready for some sexuality exploration for months now!" Mercedes requested as Rachel, and I held my hands up in protest.

I did not need anyone to call attention to Rachel's creepy fascination with me. _No thank you. _

Brittany once again out of character, clapped her leg, and laughed the loudest.

"This is getting really weird everyone." Tina mumbled, and I whole-heartedly agreed with her.

"Do you two ever talk about anything besides sex? We get it already." Dakota interrupted as Quinn. She was doing her best "completely disinterested" Quinn face.

It reminded me of the days where Quinn would sit in the back of the choir room with a book, without even bothering to participate. There was always something hot about that. Other people may find it to be a little rude or condescending even, but I loved it when Quinn did what she wanted to do rather than what everyone expected her to do.

"We should talk about Asian sex instead. Because you know, when you put two Asians together it's always the best." I turned the attention away from me, and spoke as Mike. He shrugged as if to say "yeah, you're kinda right".

"And you would be my Asian supremacist boyfriend, Santana." Tina guessed immediately.

She named us one by one after that, before finally realizing the pattern. She almost kicked her drink over when she jumped up in celebration.

"Finally!" She shouted after asserting that we were the people to our left.

"I am _so_ ready for another drink." I sighed and made my way into the kitchen.

Within what seemed like seconds of my absence from the living room, the stereo system was on and music was playing.

"Hey you." My beautiful girlfriend greeted me as she entered.

I glanced behind her to make sure that she wasn't followed by anyone before responding.

"Hey McKinley's prettiest girl." I teased her, even though I whole-heartedly agreed with Blaine on the matter.

She tipped her head down with a shy smile, and one of her carefully placed curls fell in front of her eyes.

She wasn't just the prettiest girl at our school. She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. She was perfect.

I shook my head at her shyness. It was insane to me that she didn't know how beautiful she was. It was blatantly obvious to the rest of the world.

I gestured for Quinn to hand me her glass, knowing exactly what ratio she preferred her vodka cranberries to be.

"He was wrong about that." She contested, eventually raising her eyes to hand me her glass.

She grazed my fingers deliberately with her own, and I could still feel the tingle of the contact, despite the buzz of the alcohol. _When did that ever go away?_ As hopelessly under her spell as I felt, I still wasn't sure that I ever wanted it to go away.

"Blaine's a very smart guy." I countered, before I began to pour her vodka.

Plus, he was a pretty expert. His boyfriend was even pretty.

"Yes, but he isn't exactly an expert on women." She laughed softly, and I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from kissing her in the middle of my kitchen.

I did a goofy little bounce of my hips to the music instead, tossing the vodka bottle in my hand before catching it.

"And you are?" I tested.

Although I was convinced that my dance was probably horribly unattractive, she must have disagreed. It was evident in her roaming gaze. I had always figured Quinn to be someone who had a healthy appetite for sex, but I would have never predicted just how substantial it would be._ I sure as hell was not complaining._

"Well, what do you think? How have I been doing so far?" Her tone almost made me drop the cranberry juice that I had procured from the fridge.

She was a natural. That was for damn sure. My body reacted to her touch as if it knew exactly what her touch was capable of. _Oh, and how it did._

And she was also surprisingly strong, which was a huge turn on. She was creative, and flexible, and I couldn't imagine asking for more. I didn't want anything else but her.

"Brilliantly." I breathed, and listened to her breath hitch that followed. Her fingernails tapped impatiently against the granite of the counter.

She shook her head at me, and my eyes focused on her darkened hazel.

"Don't drink too much tonight." She warned. I knew exactly what she was getting at. And I would have known, even if she hadn't made it abundantly clear during our text messaging conversation earlier.

"Oh I am definitely staying coherent." I reassured her, clearing my throat in order to adjust the husky rasp that was threatening to overtake my voice.

Dakota rushed into the kitchen at that point, and Quinn and I both took an instinctive step back from one another. We hadn't even been touching, but it was rather automatic at that point.

"Quinn! Santana! You both have to come now. Brittany and Sadie are dance battling." Dakota cheered excitedly, and Quinn and I both smiled as we followed her back into the living room area.

I hoped those jokers had moved the furniture before they started getting dance crazy.

I wasn't as excited as Dakota, but I was definitely interested in watching Brit and Sadie go head to head. It was nothing I had ever witnessed before, even at Prom. Their styles were so different, and they were both incredibly talented. It would certainly be a spectacle.

"Gosh I hope neither of them are armed." Quinn joked from beside me, and we shared one more secret smile, and one more brush of our hands before returning to the living room.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter XXXVI**

**A/N: I received so much love from last chapter that I couldn't help myself from updating again. Thanks again, everyone.**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

After draining my hair, I twisted it into a loose coil before locking it into place at the peak of my head with a clip.

_Gold lion's gonna tell me where the light is,  
Gold lion's gonna tell me where the light is,  
Take our hands out of control,  
Take our hands out of control_

My ringtone for Quinn sounded just as I was wrapping my torso in a towel. My smile was automatic.

_Yeah,_ I was_ that_ girl now.

It wasn't the most romantic ringtone that I could have chosen for my girlfriend, but for secrecy sake, I couldn't exactly have some Michael Bolton "I love you so much that I can feel it in my mullet" ring out every time Quinn texted me (not that Mr. Bolton would ever be my choice, in any case).

Gold Lion by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs served the purpose, because sometimes Quinn's bedhead-especially after a particularly active night-reminded me of a lion's mane.

Additionally, while I was sure that she would readily claim that between the two of us, I was not the morning person, she could be pretty growly in the a.m. Her morning attitude was even worse on the days where I had to leave bed before she did.

While normal people would whine about the absence of their favorite warm body, Quinn would usually just be grouchy and snappy about it. It still somehow managed to be cute.

_Outside, Inside,  
This is the moon without a tide,  
We'll build a fire in your eyes,  
We'll build a fire when the cover's getting brighter,  
Cold desire makes the moon without a tide_

I snatched my phone from my bed to read her message.

**Quinn: My mom thinks that she needs to talk to your mom about your unhealthy running habit. For once, I agree with her on something. **

**Santana: Unhealthy? It's not even 2 p.m. yet, and I would bet my favorite pair of heels that your mom is already a bottle of wine in, and you have scarfed down a pigpen's worth of bacon already. **

To my disappointment, Quinn hadn't been able to come over the night before, because she had to help her mom prep for her dad's super important brunch today. Russell Fabray had his sights set on some stupid city supervisor position, and Quinn was stuck schmoozing with her mom and sometimes older sister at all of Russell's networking events.

**Quinn: It's the middle of November. You look psychotic.**

**Santana: It hasn't snowed yet, and Puck and I wear some kickass under armour. Plus, you know that you and your hot mom would miss watching my psycho ass from the bay windows if I stopped. **

**Quinn: …I am going to have to pretend that you never called my mom hot if I can ever hope to bring myself to have sex with you again. **

**Santana: What? We both have hot moms. They had hot babies. That's usually how it works. **

**Quinn: Are you calling my sister hot now, too?**

**Santana: So what if I am? **

**Quinn: I hate you. **

**Santana: You're just mad that your dad's political ambitions are cockblocking you right now. **

**Quinn: Not for much longer, fortunately. I'll be yours in less than an hour. **

**Santana: And here I was thinking that you were mine 24/7…damn. **

**Quinn: That was super cheesy. **

**Santana: Yeah? Is that why you're smiling right now? Just say it. You know you want to. **

I would also bet my favorite heels that she was in fact smiling right now.

**Quinn: I'm always yours.**

I narrowed my eyes at my phone screen, focused intently on the word "always", my heart kickstarted in my chest. _She couldn't have meant…_

**Quinn: Shit…I meant 24/7, not…whatever. **

Her speedily sent follow-up text made me laugh. I loved to catch Quinn when she wasn't being perfectly poised or perfectly articulate.

**Santana: It's okay, babe. I'm still sitting calmly on my bed. I didn't race down to my car to flee the city. **

**Quinn: If you are ever to flee, you better fucking take me with you.**

**Santana: Brunch is that bad, huh? I'm sorry, Q. Just so you know, I have a Breadstix date with Puckerman tonight. Feel free to tag along :). **

**Quinn: I'll invite Mercedes to join us. I wouldn't want to be the third wheel ;).**

* * *

"I love your dutiful daughter outfits. They make me feel like I'm corrupting you every time I take them off." I complimented with a hum, running my fingertips along the back white lace of Quinn's dress as she straddled me.

There was definite mirth in her hazel eyes, before there was a flash of realization of some sort. She wiggled her way off of my lap in a hurry, and I groaned at the loss of her weight on me.

"Where are you going? I didn't even get to get to the taking off part!" I whined, reclining my head against the cushion of the couch.

"You distracted me! I almost forgot what I brought over." She called from where I assumed she had left her purse.

My eyes narrowed immediately in curiosity. I sprang up from the couch to find her climbing the steps with her purse over her shoulder.

"Are you coming?" She invited, rather insistently I may add.

_Are you serious? How could I not follow that ass? _

When she passed right by my bedroom, I squeezed her butt playfully from behind. She giggled, and flashed a feigned warning look over her shoulder at me.

"If there is a strap-on in that purse, I am so fucking excited. But, just so you know, I really don't want our first go of that to be in ma's bed. That's a little too kinky for me, Fabray." I teased, and she shook her head at me as we passed by my mom's room as well.

"It's not a strap-on and ew." She grimaced back at me, making her way into one of the guest bedrooms.

"Ew to strap-on sex in my mom's bed or ew to the strap-on in general?" I inquired. This was definitely something that I wanted to feel out.

"Your mom's bed." She responded so calmly, but god knows that she knew exactly how wet that simple clarification made me.

I approached the bed before turning around to face that pretty face of hers.

"Strap-on sex is _so_ on." I grinned, and she pushed me one handed onto the bed with a matching grin.

I popped myself up onto my elbows to get a better view of my piously dressed girlfriend.

"Not today it isn't, but it _is _up for future discussion." She returned my smile, and pulled the small chest that was resting by the foot of the bed away from my swinging legs.

_I'd take that. For now. _

Once the chest was a few feet away, she sat down on it. My face fell immediately when I realized that she was not going to be joining me on the bed.

My eyes scanned the deliberately made distance between us.

_Uh oh. Serious talk time. _

She always created distance between us when she needed to have a legitimate discussion. She claimed the space was a necessary evil. If I wasn't currently panicking internally, I probably would have smiled at the memory of her need for the counter between us during our relationship-beginning discussion.

"I was just joking around about your mom and sister, Q…" I scrambled to explain while attempting to think about what else I could have possibly done to piss her off.

I mean, Quinn definitely had good genes. And if I was into the MILF thing like Puck then Quinn's mom would definitely make the cut, aside from the robot "I'll do whatever you say, Russell" bit, but I wasn't about to express that to Quinn.

"This isn't about that. You aren't in trouble. That was _gross_, but you aren't in trouble." She clarified with a wave of her hands.

She took a deep breath, and I mimicked her action.

"Will you just spit it out, whatever it is?" I pleaded, sitting myself upright on the bed.

It was lovely to hear that I wasn't in trouble and all, but it didn't alleviate my concern. It had been weeks since we had a real fight. We constantly had our little bickering matches, but that was us, and I loved us.

"But I do want to talk to you about something that is very important to me. Will you promise me not to walk away during it? If I make you too uncomfortable, you can ask me to stop, but please don't walk away." She requested softly.

She sounded so adult, reasonable, and mature. _And so hot._

My heart was starting to make it presence known in my chest. I was not digging the serious tone of this. _Not at all. _

_What could she have to say that would make me want to walk away? _

We were quickly learning how to avoid backing each other into corners conversationally or otherwise. We were similar creatures in respect to our reactions in those situations. When either of us was put on the defense, we went on the offensive, rather aggressively, I might add. For her to offer me a conversational out if I needed it, just demonstrated how much we had grown together.

"I promise." I asserted, glancing unconsciously toward the door as I did so.

"I know you have intimacy issues, Santana and I want to help. I want to show you that it is more than okay for you to be the focus of my attention." She explained, crossing her legs at the thigh.

She sounded like she was making a business proposal rather than instigating a conversation about sex with her girlfriend.

Under different circumstances, I probably would have teased her about her choice of approach for this. I, however, was concentrating on fighting my flight instincts. Quinn knew me better than anyone. She was right to be concerned about me walking away.

I knew I had intimacy issues, believe me, I was well aware. They weren't something that I cared to think about, however, and they were certainly something that I did _not_ want to talk about. In this area, I never had delved into the "why" behind my actions. I didn't know why I was so uncomfortable, and I didn't want to know why.

I swallowed, and struggled to maintain eye contact.

"I love all of the things that you have done to me, baby. But I definitely notice how off you get when I've gone down on you for a few minutes, or when I'm trying to make you orgasm with my fingers. Every time, you'll pull me up, or you'll start touching me as well. I just want you to know that sometimes it _is_ okay if it is all about you. I _want_ it to be all about you sometimes, San. It's not just that you deserve it, which you do, but making you feel good, is one of my favorite things to do." She had definitely lost some of her professional tone, which I was grateful for.

There was more than one occasion where I could tell that Quinn was visibly upset about my inability to have the attention focused on me for too long. It wasn't like I didn't enjoy what she was doing, I always did, but I would just get so damn self-conscious about it. _I definitely have my share of self-worth issues._

I knew it wasn't fair to her.

Other girls had never put up much of a fuss about it. Brittany and I never spoke of it. Sadie made comments during, and sometimes after, but she never tried to have a serious conversation about it. She and I were never on solid ground to start with. I was sure that she didn't want to create any extra tremors.

If I was ever going to learn how to give myself completely to someone, I knew it had to be Quinn.

"Okay, I can try and work on letting you..." I offered quietly, and she interrupted me with a shake of her head and a shy smile.

"I have a different solution, actually, if you'll agree to it." She bit the inside of her cheek and reached into her purse to retrieve two large scarves. One purple, and one midnight blue.

My forehead scrunched as I looked on with confusion. _Was she going to seduce me with scarves?_

"I thought this room would be the best choice for this, because of the bedposts." She gestured to the bed, appearing about as bashful as a head cheerleader could appear.

Every time this girl acted even remotely shy, I was instantly captivated by her. There was something so fascinating about such a beautiful woman with an unbelievable presence such as hers demonstrating such personal hesitancy.

"Oh." I responded without really having any idea what she was getting at.

And then it hit me. _Oh god._

"Ohhh…you want to tie me to the bed?" Both of my eyebrows rose, and my mouth formed a wide oval.

"Just your hands." She elucidated, and intertwined her fingers into the scarves, toying with them absently as she waited for me to find my words.

I had never, ever, allowed someone to tie me up before. I tied other people up. I was not a person who liked or wanted to be restrained. I was a creature of control and the thought of someone having that power over me had always made me feel nauseous.

But this wasn't just someone. This was Quinn. Quinn who I loved more than anything or anyone else in the world. Quinn who I trusted. Quinn who wanted this not as an opportunity for dominating me, but as an opportunity for showing me that I deserved to receive everything that I had given to her.

"No pressure, okay? We won't do this if you don't want it. If you do let me, I'll untie you whenever you ask me to." Quinn's sincerity and her reassuring tone made the decision for me.

When I would flip the switch, so to speak, during our lovemaking, it was instinctual. It was a strong impulse to turn the tables, and thus the attention away from me.

If she restrained me, I wouldn't be able to do that. My body wouldn't be able to properly react to that desire. It was a scary thought, but my girlfriend's "solution" did make sense.

I would have to just ride those impulses out. I wouldn't have to be overthinking or overanalyzing while fighting my urges to concentrate on her. If it was too much for me, I trusted her to stop. I knew I would only have to say the words.

I was ready to have my lips on hers._ My incredible girlfriend._ She had both the nerve and the desire to do this for me. She was one of a kind.

I was locked in to one person at 17. I honestly couldn't see myself wanting to be with anyone else ever again. _Crazy, right?_

_Oh my god, I'm Rachel fucking Berry. _

Well, except her and Finn were toast. But, I was sure she was still a sickeningly hopeless romantic.

"I trust you. Let's get our fifty shades of lesbian on." I smiled at her through my nerves, and found great comfort in her following laugh.

Her laugh was my home.

"Please tell me you didn't read that." She begged, standing up from the chest, reaching to my side to throw the scarves down on the bed, before pulling me up to her by my hands.

"I may have skimmed it, but I stopped reading at this part with a tampon…" I elaborated, and she covered my mouth with her hand to halt any further explanation.

"Stop. Stop. Stop right there. No." She grimaced against my shoulder, shaking her head, before she removed her pomegranate scented hand from my mouth.

I took advantage of her temporary state, and kneeled down to splay my fingers against the skin of her thighs, pushing her dress up, before she helped me pull it over her head. If I was going to let this girl have her way with me, her body was at least going to be on display for my viewing pleasure.

She didn't protest, far from it. She kissed me tenderly, slowing me down with her lips whenever my mouth attempted to instigate a more hurried pace.

She wasn't going to make this quick for me. I could already tell.

Her nimble fingers found the draw string of my pants, untying them in such a leisurely fashion, while her tongue finally grazed my lower lip.

She made _very_ slow work of my other clothes as well.

Quinn asked me two more times if I was sure about this before I was even on my back. She artfully managed to be sweet and insanely sexy at the same time.

Despite her careful pace, my heart was still pounding as she grasped my left wrist, pressing my hand gently against the wooden post. The wood felt cold against my heated skin. Even though Quinn's kiss and her measured undressing of me had raised my body temperature a few degrees, I definitely felt a chill. It probably had something to do being completely naked, uncovered, and on the bed by myself. But, I really hoped that she was going to alleviate the last issue sooner rather than later.

She wrapped the purple silk scarf around my wrist and palm. I was confident that I had seen her wear this one before. I couldn't imagine how I was going to feel if she wore it again in the future.

"Try and tug on it." She directed, and I did so. It wasn't so tight that it was hurting me, but my wrist was definitely not going anywhere anytime soon.

Panic didn't rise in my throat as I had expected it to. I must have really trusted this woman. I was tense, yes, but panicked? _No._

She trailed her fingernails down my exposed forearm and bicep before walking around the bed to take care of my other wrist.

Her eyes were growing more and more green by the instant, as they soaked in every inch of my exposed form.

When my own eyes weren't fixed on hers, they were definitely watching the inconceivable amount of effortless confidence that Quinn had in each stride she made. I was enchanted by the way her black panties tightened and flexed around my favorite ass. While I had a particular fondness for it when it came to my own undergarment choices, black was an unusual choice for her. I wondered if she had picked it today for a reason.

"All those summer weeks where you claimed to be attending Jesus Camp, you were really going to Girl Scout Camp, weren't you?" I accused jokingly, successfully, for the most part, keeping the nervous shake from my voice.

_Did they even teach knots at Girl Scout Camp?_ My feminist-self veered my mind into a brief detour.

"Yes, because from the age of eight when I started going to those camps, I knew that one day that I would be tying my scrawny little neighbor, Santana Lopez, to the bed." She laughed while I unabashedly focused on her darkly clad breasts.

"I was never scrawny!" I protested as she pressed my right wrist to the bedpost.

_Okay, so I was kinda a skinny kid._ But I was fierce.

She made quicker work of this knot job. I could tell by the hungry look in her wide eyes that she was becoming quite anxious to start touching me.

"I was there. And you were. You sure aren't anymore though." My muscles twitched beneath my skin, as her index finger ran down between my breasts and along my stomach.

"Spread those legs, baby." She ordered, walking with her confident sashay to the end of the bed.

I did as I was told. I was not ashamed of my body. Being exposed like this was not the difficult part.

Quinn and I were very different in that area. She still caught nerves when she was naked around me. I could never fathom why. To me, her body was flawless, and I couldn't comprehend how she could see it any differently.

I knew that her mom was consistently raving about the importance of proper eating habits and exercise in order to have a healthy body. Quinn and I both knew what her mom really meant. Judy Fabray believed that maintaining the perfect figure was a vital part of being a good wife, and had the same expectations for her daughter. Quinn's environment was chocked full of expectations.

She didn't appear to be nervous currently, however, even though she was clad in only her undergarments.

"God, you're gorgeous." I observed as my chest heaved slightly with anticipation.

"Shh…this is about you." She punctuated her point by bowing her back, dipping her head down to make one long deliberate lick along my slit.

"Fuuck." I whimpered, my hips rising, and my wrists reflexively straining against the scarves.

_Foreplay was apparently over. _

I was definitely okay with that. Quinn was smart. She knew that teasing me while I was in a vulnerable state like this was not going to get the reaction that she so desired.

"Are you ever not ready for me?" She husked before sinking her tongue into my wet heat.

Before she had even starting tying my first wrist, I was able to feel the evidence of my arousal on my thighs.

The question was probably a rhetorical one, but my body was answering for me, in any case. I was always ready for her. She was my living, breathing, walking fantasy. I never stood a chance.

Her capable hands kneaded the flesh of my thighs while her tongue swirled against my clit. She brought me to orgasm twice without entering me at all.

My arms were starting to tire from tensing against the scarves.

My thighs were trembling when I felt her first finger enter me. I had never allowed someone to give me more than two orgasms without me returning the favor. While my hips instinctively bucked against her soaked digit, anxiety was building in my chest. My eyes were no longer focused on the impeccable body that was curved beneath me, or the head of golden hair.

As if sensing my change of demeanor, Quinn withdrew her finger, and tipped her head up to seek my eyes.

"Do you want me to untie you?" Her hoarse voice was laced with concern.

I shook my head. I didn't. I was determined to do this. _For me, and for her._

"Anything I can do?" She asked, squeezing my thighs in a gesture of reassurance.

"Kiss me." I pleaded, and she crawled up to meet my lips without hesitation.

It was strange to have no use of my hands while I was kissing Quinn. It was second nature for me to touch her.

Minutes passed before I could taste anything but me on her tongue. Not that I minded. I tasted the best that way.

I just couldn't do this without her as connected to me as possible. Her head between my thighs was certainly intimate, but not in the way that I needed.

It was a kiss meant for comfort, but my hips couldn't remain still beneath her when her tongue was so expertly massaging mine.

"Now fuck me." I demanded against her puffy lips, sucking hard on her bottom lip to illustrate that I didn't want her mouth to leave mine as she did so.

She took my not-so-subtle hint, reaching between us, giving my clit a brief "hello again" with her thumb before she pushed two fingers into me.

Her free hand reached behind my neck, holding onto me there to give her more leverage as she fucked me.

I spread my legs wider for her, wanting to lose myself in the sensations of her touch and her kiss.

The soft cloth of her bra felt amazing against my nipples. Her fingers curling inside of me sent my eyes rolling back into my head. When she grasped a fist full of my hair to jerk my chin up, in order to attack my neck, my anxiety disappeared.

"You're so sexy like this." She moaned into my pulse point, as her fingers curled purposely inside of me.

My head hit the wall with a thud, but I barely registered the impact. Quinn was nipping at the skin of my left bicep with her teeth.

"I think I could orgasm just from watching your arms." She confessed, licking the flexed muscle near my shoulder.

Her pace became far more hurried, and I groaned loudly from the combination of her soaked panties on my thigh, the pounding of her fingers relentlessly against my spot, and the hum of her sex voice near my ear.

I was coming completely undone beneath this woman. My fingernails dug into the silk of the scarves, as Quinn shifted over me to position herself slightly sideways. Her pace never paused, it didn't even slow.

In fact, once she was adjusted, her hand began to practically fly against me. The face she was making was without inhibition. It was all primal determination.

Her frantic movements created a bundle of pure pressure within the pit of my stomach. I recognized the sensation, although it had never been this powerful before.

"Fuck, Q, you're gonna…" I couldn't finish, gasping for air instead as her mouth encircled my nipple.

My arms and abs were burning as my vision blurred. My stomach coiled forcibly, deliciously, as my body curled suddenly into her.

My scream was muffled only by the impact of my mouth on the outside of Quinn's arm. I bit down on her exposed skin as I came. She cried out at the unexpected attack, but her hips rolled into me in a way that indicated her pleasure.

My body writhed before stilling as I came down from the most intense orgasm that I had ever had.

"What are you smiling about?" I breathed raggedly from beneath her, as she trailed kisses down my arms.

"Mm…well, you see, I just _totally_ topped Santana Lopez." She grinned broadly, punctuating her smile with a cocky tilt of her head.

"I'd tell you not to let it go to your head, but I can tell it is already too late for that." I laughed beneath her, shifting my own head near one of my hands to wipe some of the sweat that was glistening on my brow.

She kissed me like it was the beginning. She kissed me with a passion reserved for new lovers and with an intimate precision known only to those deeply in love.

I was dizzy. I forgot about my restraints momentarily, tugging fruitlessly against them, needing to touch her desperately everywhere.

My need to touch her had nothing to do with any sort of discomfort about having her attention on me. I smiled into her lips at the thought.

Abruptly, Quinn roughly squeezed my thigh, before she began circling my entrance with her fingers.

"What do you think you're doing, Fabray?" I purred against her lips.

"You said it was easier after the first one. I'm about to test the accuracy of that." She responded simply, dipping her fingers into me once again.

"Do I look like I can handle that right now?" I leaned away, just barely, from the kiss with an incredulous look.

I honestly felt like she had melted me. Not that I had much freedom of movement anyway, but I didn't feel as though I had any muscle control currently.

"Baby, you've been doing this to me for weeks. You can handle an afternoon of it." She asserted, laughing darkly as she sucked on my earlobe.

_And you know what? Somehow, I did._

* * *

"You're really not going to tell me what's up with you, Lopez?" Puck garbled through a mouth full of breadstick.

I cringed at his complete lack of table members, sharing a three-way disgusted look with Mercedes and Quinn.

It was the fourth or so time that he had mentioned my demeanor.

_So what?_ My entire body felt like a mass of warm awesome jelly. He was lucky that I was even here. I would probably be passed out in bed otherwise.

I knew I wasn't as chatty or as snarky as my usual self. But, my mind couldn't begin to form my usual witty retorts. It was a pure cloud of bliss. It was like Quinn had managed to relax every muscle in my body that had ever experienced any tension of any sort.

Puck wasn't the only one giving me a hard time. Quinn had been teasing me about my happy drowsy state since the moment that she had finally released my wrists.

But hey, at least she had earned the right to give me a hard time about it. Believe me, she had _definitely_ earned it.

"Spill, girl. You haven't insulted any of us the entire meal and you didn't even make a dirty joke when the waitress asked if you wanted to eat a piece of her favorite pie." Mercedes prodded, handing Puck another breadstick warily, as if she was concerned that her hand might be bitten off by the hungry teenager.

"It was too easy." I shrugged, attempting to ignore the pleased smile on my girlfriend's face.

"That's never stopped you before." Mercedes pointed out, and Puck snorted into his next bite of bread.

_Enough with the slut jokes already. _

I was unable to muster the will or energy to get truly angry, but I knew if I let her comment go, it would only make me seem more suspicious.

"Watch it, Virgin Wheezy." I snapped, shooting my diva friend a glare.

"There's our girl." Puck waggled a breadstick in my direction, and I snatched it from him even though it wasn't an offering. Despite the full meal that I had just consumed, I was starving.

The more I ate, the more amused looks Quinn would shoot in my direction. _Yeah yeah._

"So where have you all applied so far?" Mercedes changed the topic to college, which was an even more uncomfortable subject than the topic concerning why I was in my current state.

Quinn and I hadn't discussed what we were going to do after this year yet. She was going to go to Yale, I was sure of that. She had received one of those special awards for her SATs, and she had near perfect grades. She probably already wrote some kickass essay that she was too prideful to show me. I had not a single shred of doubt that she would get in. She was going to rule that Ivy League school just like she ruled McKinley. I couldn't have been prouder of her.

My future wasn't as clear. I couldn't just follow Quinn around as much as I didn't want us to be apart. It wasn't who I was, and it wasn't what I wanted.

_But what did I want? _

Everyone seemed so sure of what they wanted to do. Mercedes was going to launch right into striving for her music career. Rachel and Kurt were set on NYADA. Even Finn knew that he wanted to just rot here and take over his dad's business.

What about me? I loved to sing, sure, but did I want the starving artist lifestyle? _No._ Something in me wanted those long night spent in the library reading about history, and politics, and international issues. Another part of me, wanted to keep performing.

_Where did that leave me?_ I spoke to my mother on the phone last weekend, and she assured me that I didn't have to be sure about my major if I entered into a school with one in mind. She seemed to be attempting to gently guide me into Political Science. I guessed that made sense to a certain degree. In the meantime, I was applying to at least a dozen schools.

I shrugged in response to Mercedes question, as Puck began to explain that he wasn't going to go to college. Even though I knew that already, it made my heart sink. I hoped that he was going to change his mind somehow. He was so much smarter than he gave himself credit for.

It made my chest tighten to think that a year from now Puck and me in all likelihood wouldn't be in the same state.

I wanted out of Lima. I wanted out of Ohio. I just wished that I could take these jerks that I had grown to love so much with me.

Quinn appeared as though she was holding her breath, waiting for my response to Mercedes' question. I couldn't handle whatever mixture of hope and fear that I saw in those hazel eyes. Instead of responding, I slid out from the booth and escaped into the bathroom.

I didn't have to pee, so I ran the cold water from the sink, splashing my face with it.

_What was I doing?_ Here I was playing part-time house with Quinn, and I wasn't even sure how much distance was going to be between us come next fall. I was allowing her to have all of me when our relationship could have an expiration date.

_Am I stupid for doing that? _

I gripped the porcelain sides of the shitty restaurant sink, inhaling deeply to calm my thoughts. Cowardly Santana would run. She would end it before Quinn ever had the chance to do so. But I wasn't her anymore.

I may not have had a clear vision of what I wanted for a future education and career, but I was clear on Quinn. I was somehow sure, to my very core, that I wanted her and that wasn't going to magically change by fall.

_What have you done to me, Fabray? _

I smiled softly, like a crazy person, into the mirror, adjusting my ponytail before vacating the restroom.

The waitress was standing in front of the booth as I approached, leaning in to discuss something with my friends.

"Is your friend single?" I overheard as I neared the group.

_Oh, that's awkward. _

The waitress placed our check on the middle of our table as she waited for a response.

I debated whether I should continue my path to the booth and sit down, or if I should hang back until the waitress walked away.

My eyes focused on Quinn as she pursed her lips. It was so fucking endearing how clear it was to me that she was desperately fighting the urge to tell the waitress that one, I was not single, and two, to fuck off.

Puck put up both of his hands to respond instead.

"I am _not _touching that one." Puck chuckled, and Mercedes playfully shoved the man whose head had been shaved ever since Halloween. I thought he looked much better without the dead squirrel, as Kurt called it, on his head.

Quinn's face flashed fury, and she realized that I was approaching the group just as Puck was being pushed.

"You told him?! How could you do that?" Quinn screeched, bumping the table as she stood up abruptly. Angry irrational Quinn was back. _Great. _

Mercedes shielded her face with her hands, as if something was going to come flying at her any moment.

Quinn's eyes turned on the waitress next.

"Walk. Away." Quinn snarled with a grit of her teeth, and the waitress, appearing to be completely startled, stumbled backwards and away.

"I didn't." I asserted gravely.

"She didn't tell me shit, but I know now." Puck admitted without apology, and he did not wilt under Quinn's fiery gaze.

I snatched my purse, plopping enough cash for the entire check down on the table before grabbing my coat.

It was one thing for Puck to know. I knew he had more than his share of suspicions about Quinn and me. But, he was loyal, and I trusted him not to tell anyone.

Mercedes, on the other hand, lived for this kind of gossip, and Quinn had just spilled the beans in front of her, because she hadn't trusted me enough to know that I was fighting just as hard as she was to keep our secret.

I was pissed.

"Take me home, Puck." I ordered, not waiting for him to slide out of the booth before making my way out of the restaurant.

Quinn had driven us because I was all kinds of incapable of doing so at the time. I was more than okay with her driving home solo.

Against her best interests, Quinn followed me outside. I gestured for Puck to continue to his jeep when he exited, and Mercedes wisely did the same.

"You didn't tell him?" Her voice was significantly softer now, and I stepped with her to the side of the building to avoid any people who might approach the restaurant.

"No. I have fucking lied to my best friend for months now. I have lied for _you_, Quinn. But you still don't trust me. I demonstrated today how much I trust you, and you _just_ demonstrated how little you trust me." I hissed, but I was still conscious of keeping my voice quiet.

The glistening of her hazel eyes extinguished some of the fire in my stomach. I sighed, and glanced over at Puck's waiting form.

"Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to make sure, although I really don't doubt him, that Puck is not going to tell anyone about us while you do the same with Mercedes." I outlined.

Mercedes was truly the one that we needed to worry about.

"And I'm going to apologize to him, and I'm going to fully explain to him why I couldn't be honest with him." I continued, and she nodded, appearing as though she was waiting for the harsh part of this to come.

"And after that, once I have made sure that I haven't done anything harmful to my relationship with Puck, I need you to come over, and I need you to explain why-after you have been proved wrong dozens of times now-you still jump to these conclusions about me. I love you, and I would sooner hurt myself, than I would hurt you. Why don't you get that?" I questioned her and she shook her head almost violently.

I feared the fall of her tears. I wouldn't be able to stop myself from wiping them away if they did cascade down her face.

"I do…I do, Santana it's…" She stuttered.

"I know. Just go do your damage control with Mercedes and text me when you're done, okay?" I urged her and thankfully, it looked like we were out of the woods in the tear department.

I was upset, but this was a hurdle that our two athletic asses could easily jump.

"Okay. I love y—" The waitress emerged from the door at that point, shouting after us with a "hey!".

Quinn's neck snapped so hard to the side that I almost thought she broke it.

"Are you that desperate? Do I need to throw money at you to make you go away?" Quinn bared her teeth, but the waitress continued forward, reaching out with Quinn's large purse in her hand.

"You left your purse." The waitress explained simply, and Quinn bowed her head in embarrassment as she took it, mumbling a weak "thank you" as she did so.

"God, I hope you tipped her well." She wished once the waitress had escaped back into the building.

"I did. Who can really blame her for wanting all up on this anyway?" I joked, gesturing with my hands to my lovely lady goods.

It earned me a smile. That was enough.

"I can't. You think I would be far more sensitive to her plight." She smiled at me genuinely, and we crossed the parking lot together.

"Plight? Okay, Shakespeare. Text me later." I told her, before opening the door to Puck's jeep to climb inside.

* * *

"Come out with it." I commanded, turning down the 80's heavy metal that Puck had obviously been rocking out to on his way to Breadstix.

"With what?" He flashed me a smug grin.

"How much Halo do I have to play to get you to forgive me?" I asked.

I didn't need him to know that I would play all day if that meant that he wouldn't be mad at me for lying to him for months.

"Did you lie to me because you thought I couldn't keep your secret?" He inquired, without taking his eyes from the road.

He didn't sound mad, or even remotely upset. I was confused to say the least. I would probably be all kinds of irritated if he kept a serious relationship from me for months. _Serious relationship? Did I just think that?_

"No, of course not." I glanced down at my shoes, biting my tongue before I could say more.

If it was up to me, I would have told him during our run on the morning following my performance with the marching band. After all, without him, I wasn't sure that Quinn and I would be where we were. I owed him.

Even if he hadn't played Cupid, he still deserved my honesty, but it wasn't mine to give.

"Then we're good, hot stuff." He proclaimed.

I squinted over at him. It couldn't be this easy. He wasn't going to make me apologize with food or video game time or wingwoman work? _Really?_

"Seriously?" I asked, and my skepticism was clear in my tone.

"When my mom and I picked up Quinn for Winter Formal in eighth grade, Mr. Fabray frisked me for condoms, and insisted on showing me his gun collection. He forced me to go to church with them the next day after he remembered that I was the "bastard" kid. Children born out of wedlock are extra vulnerable to sin, he said. He's crazy." He patted my knee.

_How terrifying for a 13-year-old kid. Jesus. Literally. _

That really angered me. Puck had enough daddy issues without Russell Fabray passing judgment on the nature of my friend's birth. _Fuck that man._

"Why were you grinning when I got in here if I don't have apology terms to meet?" I inquired further. I probably should have just counted my gratefuls, and let it go.

"Because now I know for sure why you were all loopy and shit at dinner. You got Fabrayed beforehand. You got Fabrayed _hard_." His grin was back, and he winked at me.

I smacked his hand on my knee, and laughed. I was too fucking relieved to even be embarrassed. He was right anyway. I did get Fabrayed.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

"Where's your mom?" I asked, glancing around the living room as if Mercedes' family members were suddenly going to pop out randomly.

I was a bundle of nerves.

"Grocery store with the rest of the fam." Mercedes answered with a sly smile.

I cleared my throat as if to speak, but I had no idea what to say, or how to start. She didn't seem mad, and she didn't pelt me with questions as soon as she opened the door as I had expected her to.

Adding cloud to confusion, my mind was on Santana._ And no, not the flex of Santana's biceps as her hands fisted with each flick of my tongue…although now…_

_Wait. Focus._

Santana had been completely right earlier about how much trust she had put in me. I knew that her issues ran deep, and I knew that earlier meant something grander than I could possibly fathom.

I should have known that she wouldn't have betrayed me like that. I did know that. It was just a stupid, panicked reaction in that moment.

_People knew. _

It was just Puck and Mercedes, but people knew.

I was scared. I could lose everything with one whispered word to my father. With one hint of a rumor.

"Okay, I'm going to make this easy on you. Here is what I think I know. You and Santana have been getting busy since Santana's birthday last year and…" Mercedes interrupted my thought process and my eyes flew wide with her assumption.

"Whoa whoa, no. Incorrect." I waved a hand in front of her.

If Santana would have allowed it, we would have "gotten busy" as Mercedes had so classily articulated, but she had stopped it.

"Let me finish. You had some fights, because you're not gay and she's not the commitment type." She continued casually.

"Oh my god…you…" I sputtered. Surely she was joking about all of this.

"Hey now. Slow your roll. I'm not done. Prom night got you all worried that you were gonna lose your boo so you confessed your eternal love, but I interrupted you before you could consummate your lady marriage." She laughed at her own strangeness, and I almost joined her.

_Shit, what did she hear when she came upstairs that night? _I distinctly remembered moaning _really_ loudly before Mercedes busted through the door with the others.

"This is ridiculous." I gripped a pillow from the couch, ready to throw it if she continued spewing the mess that was escaping from her mouth.

"You gay panic and smash lips with Sam. Santana goes ahead and Quinn panics, and smashes vaginas with Sadie." Her gesture was just_…I won't_. It was crude, I'll say that.

"I may kill you." I warned.

"As your best friend who has been kept in the closet, pun intended, about this for months, I've earned this." She laughed again at her own joke, clapping her thigh as if it was the greatest one she had ever heard.

I did laugh that time. It could be worse than this, I supposed. She could be mad.

"Until Nationals, you two are in this awkward place where you're like "you're so hot" and she's like "no, you're so hot" until one of you decide that it is time to talk about more than just hotness. Since you both are silly bitches, the talk is a disaster, and you don't talk again until school starts. You become official when Santana declares her fidelity to you to the tune of the "Drumming Song" featuring yours truly." She imitated the voices of San and I and I just shook my head. I was about to give up on correcting her.

"There were like two accurate things in that entire spiel, Mercedes." I declared, but she definitely had me smiling.

"I had to have my fun, because I've been waiting an eternity for you to admit everything to me." She sighed, and stole the pillow from my lap.

"You can't tell anyone." I stated seriously.

"Baby girl, I know your situation. My lips are sealed." She promised, and despite her gossipy ways, I believed her.

"Santana is my girlfriend." I admitted.

She clapped. She actually started clapping.

It was the first time that I had said that out loud to anyone but Santana. It felt…it felt great.

"D'aww, but really, you two need to watch yo faces if you don't want anyone else to know." She cautioned, yanking me into a brief hug.

"I try, but…" I sighed into her hug, before leaning back once again.

"But she's your heart." She finished for me.

I cocked an eyebrow at her. _She's my heart? What? I mean, she has my heart for all intents and purposes._

"Yeah…I don't really know what that means." I gave her a sideways glance.

"You'll know. It's rare, but I see it. My parents are like that." She turned her palms to the ceiling.

"Thanks for understanding, in any case." I thanked her, and I really, _really _meant it.

"You're welcome, Quinn. First, take me back to the beginning, and then, if we have time before the family gets back, you can finally fawn to someone about how much you love the girl." She directed, and I allowed excitement to swell in my chest.

I could finally talk to someone about the most important part of my life.

This was going to be okay.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter XXXVII**

**A/N: Greetings, readers. Thank you, yet again, for your continued support. **

**FYI, the text sections that are in italics are flashbacks. I've done this in previous chapters, but this one is pretty flashback heavy so I thought I would give you all a head's up just in case it wasn't clear. **

** To the twoone guest, if you ever wanted to log-in or register and PM me sometime, I would be happy to discuss all of your issues with my story. As it stands, I disagree with you whole-heartedly, which means I won't be making any changes based on your selective reading. **

** I apologize if that seemed negative to anyone. I really am grateful for everyone who reads. And here goes...**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

If I were a more responsible student, I would be spending the train ride with my nose a textbook, but I was swiping thoughtfully through the pictures on my phone instead.

My neck ached. I didn't sleep well the night before, because I had been so anxious and excited for today. _For her._

Life seemed to be moving at such a fast pace lately, that it was nice to sit still for a while. Sit still on a moving train, sure, but let's not get too technical here.

I personally thought it was pretty stupid that this was the first time in almost four weeks that I was seeing Quinn. She was less than a two hour train ride away. But, she was throwing herself into every activity that her mother and father had ever been involved in. I also thought that it was pretty idiotic for her to be so closely following in her mother's footsteps when her mother's one ambition in college was to find a husband.

_I mean, a sorority, really Q? _

Not that I thought that sororities were by default bad. I was sure that being in a sorority was much like being a Cheerio in high school. It was a means of obtaining social status, but she could have at least chosen one where the list of famous people that pledged didn't consist entirely of powerful men's wives. But of course, she had to pledge the one that her mother did.

As for me, I put myself out there and went to a Glee Club information session at Columbia. It wasn't at all like our Glee Club at McKinley. They showed us some of their videos of past performances, and they were terribly boring. _Total yawnfest._ They just stood there with these vacant expressions on their faces while they sang.

Not to mention, that everyone stared at me like I was going to slushie them the whole time I was there. Well, they probably didn't use slushies there, but you know what I mean. I stuck out like a sexy sore thumb.

The twenty minutes spent in that room sent me spiraling back to the high school environment. It was almost jarring for me, because at Columbia so far, I had felt like a complete unknown. Hell, I was an unknown. I was nobody.

People didn't know me as head bitch Santana Lopez from Lima Heights Adjacent. People didn't know me as the cheerleading captain. People didn't know me as the only out lesbian in the school or the girl who was attacked by six guys at prom. People didn't know me at all. I could be whoever I wanted to be here.

Did I miss having the crowds part for me as I walked? Part of me did, sure. But would I go back for it? _No._

People bumped shoulders with me in passing and didn't immediately sputter into a string of apologies. The HBIC glare that I would always instinctively give after didn't faze most of them as it always had fazed the kids in high school. It was odd for me to not be that character anymore, but I was starting to like it.

And you know, I missed my friends, every single day, but I wanted a fresh start. I wanted a life without the baggage. It was so refreshing to not have those labels on me anymore.

Growing up in such a small town, I had to fight tooth and nail for people to know as little about me as possible, but here, here people only knew what I chose to tell them.

As for the Columbia Glee Club, it was all gospel shit anyway. I couldn't handle that. I was going to have to find another outlet for performing.

Being a college cheerleader wasn't in the cards for me either. I was actually offered more than a handful of scholarship opportunities for cheerleading before I graduated, after all, I had led the squad to two National titles. But, it felt to me like that part of my life was finished. It ended on the perfect note, and it wasn't a book that I needed to open again.

I didn't want a new Sylvester in my life. I wanted to make my own path, and I didn't want to be under anyone's thumb.

Now my classes, those were enjoyable for me. Thankfully, I was able to get some of the standards out of the way before college because I had taken some community college courses my senior year. I loved my Introduction to American Politics class. Some of it was pretty basic, but for the most part, I couldn't get enough.

So to sum up my short stint in college so far, I hadn't found my proper place yet, so to speak, but I had found plenty of places that just weren't for me. And this unknown exploratory phase for me was an exciting place for me to be.

Another positive was that I wasn't stuck living in a dorm like Quinn. Instead, I was living in my mom's swanky New York apartment. It was spacious and fully furnished, and it meant that I was able to see my mom more than every couple of months. It would be more like every couple of weeks now. Some kids went to college in order to move out of their parents' pad, and here I was moving in.

As soon as my mother returned from her current job in France I was sure that we were both going to have to make some changes. Aside from financially, I had been taking almost complete care and responsibility for myself for the past four years. I didn't know how our relationship dynamic was going to work. To what degree would we be roommates? To what degree would we be mother and daughter?

It was abnormal for me just to have groceries in the fridge that I did not purchase myself.

My mom couldn't have been more excited about our arrangement, however. It was her idea, after all. When I told her that I had been admitted to Columbia, within minutes, I had an email from her secretary outlining all of the different routes that I could take to class from her apartment. The next email followed three hours later with possible design ideas for my room. The email I received the following day was a straight up bribe. My mom promised me that any money that she would have otherwise spent on a dorm, she would put aside for me, and I could use that money to get my own place one day.

None of that was necessary to sell me on the Columbia idea. I loved New York. It was unlike any other place that I had ever traveled. It felt right when I received that acceptance letter. It fit. Mom was a great bonus.

Another bonus, New Haven was only a train ride away from New York. I was less than two hours away from my little blonde future business major. Yup, that's what she supposedly wanted to do. _Business._ And not like quaint little art store business. _Corporate shit. _

Quinn, who had an entire stack of sketchbooks in her closet at her parents' house. Quinn, who spent all of the money that she earned at our job, on stuff for her camera. Quinn, who could paint incredible landscapes from memory.

Business didn't thrill her. It wasn't a reason for her to get up in the morning. She didn't ramble to me excitedly about microeconomics. We had more than one argument about this topic, if you couldn't already tell. It aggravated me how much she was living for everyone else but herself.

But, her father had long ago convinced her that she could never make a living in the art world. So, she was going to graduate and work for her dad instead. Because really, that man needed to have even more control over her.

I hated him.

Obviously Quinn and I were having very different college experiences so far. I was exploring, and she was following to a "T" the track that someone else had written out for her.

Aside from that, long distance relationships were difficult in general, but a secret long distance relationship was even harder. She was busy as all get out already, and when she wasn't head first in someone else's ass, she refused to call or Skype me when her roommate was around.

I would promise to be absolutely platonic, I would tell her that all I needed to hear was her voice, all I needed to see was her face, but she was convinced that her roommate would figure it us out. I was basically in a text relationship. Me and my keypad, we were pretty damn monogamous.

Okay, that wasn't quite fair. She made an effort to memorize her roommate's schedule in order to figure out when we could speak, and she had locked herself in study rooms on several occasions to Skype with me. She was definitely trying. It was just hard.

Making this whole weekend happen though was a fight. Quinn had sworn up and down that she was going to come visit me in New York for our anniversary (after making sure that my mom was not going to be around, of course). But, two days ago she told me that she had too much work to do and wasn't going to be able to make the trip. I assured her that we could do work together, and I promised that I would make sure that she got everything done. She wasn't having it.

Come to find out, that there was a pledge party on Saturday that she was required to attend.

I felt like I was chasing someone that was supposed to already be mine.

But screw her, if she didn't think that I was going to make this work. If she couldn't come to me, I was going to come to her. Her roommate was visiting home for the weekend anyway, so she wouldn't have to be super paranoid all weekend. It wasn't an entire apartment to ourselves in New York, but I just needed to spend time with her.

I knew she was trying. I knew that Yale was her father's stomping grounds. He knew pretty much all of her professors. I tried to be as understanding as possible. It was just fucking difficult to go from our incredible summer together, no, from our incredible year together, to our current state of being.

She was still the only one that I wanted. I loved her with every fiber of my being.

I knew from the inception of our relationship that it was never going to be easy between us. This is what I signed up for.

_Did I sound bitter? Because I was. _

But I wanted to focus on the good things about our relationship and about our past because not only was this our first weekend together in weeks; it was also our one year anniversary celebration.

The pictures that I was swiping through on my phone were certainly helping. I wasn't a photographer, like Quinn, but I did love me some cell phone snapshots. I switched the song on my phone, and lost myself in my photos and the music.

_Honey, when you doubt my love for you  
Look into my eyes what I'm going through  
Even if we change and fall out of  
You hold my hand and it's better than love _

The first one I paused on was from Puck's bonfire after our junior year Powderpuff victory. Mercedes' had her arm around me, while we were sitting on a log by the fire, half of Quinn's face was in the shot, and she was smiling affectionately at the two of us. It was before the blonde had found me on Puck's jeep. There was a hint of something there in those hazel eyes. It still surprised me that it took me so long to notice it.

I scanned through all of the prom pictures and the "One Flip Wonders" pictures from the after party. Puck and Sam were flexing in most of them. Sadie and I were looking like a pair of cocky HBICs and Quinn either looked completely disinterested or was openly glaring at Sadie in every picture that she was in. It was pretty comical.

Speaking of Sadie, I needed to give that girl a call. She had moved out of Ohio after Christmas my senior year, and I had only had sporadic communication with her since. She had booked a couple dance gigs, I knew that much. She was in Boston the last time I had heard from her.

I almost teared up at the pictures from Cheer Nationals of my squad and their white bandages. A couple months ago, Dakota had let it slip that Quinn was the one who had planned the whole bandage display. Less than a week after I had broken Quinn's heart by sleeping with Sadie, Quinn was organizing this awe-inspiring demonstration of support for me. _Who does that?_ The day that Dakota told me, once I had successfully found my girlfriend, I didn't stop kissing her for hours.

_Save me from myself  
You got my back when I need help  
It's no one else in the world  
You will always be my girl  
You will always be, you will always be  
You will always be my girl _

I missed my cheerleading squad. I skyped with Dakota more than I did Quinn. Quinn and I assisted with cheer camp a few times over the summer, more for the girls than for Coach. We had taught Dakota well, and she was predictably chosen as Captain, but she was still nervous, and was full of questions that I was positive she already knew the answers to. I was proud of her.

I whipped quickly through the pictures from last year's summer. My wasted summer, as I liked to call it. No offense meant to Sadie, of course, but that was precious time that I should have been spending with someone else.

Brittany posing with the various marching band instruments forced me to bite back an audible laugh. The presence of a different drooling geeky guy watching her attentively in every frame made the pictures extra hilarious.

She was still in Lima, for now, but she had graduated at least, and was no longer dating Wheels. I wasn't confident that her heart was ever in that relationship, but knowing Brittany, she would have no trouble finding someone else.

I had a few creeper pictures of Quinn sleeping. _Okay, well more than a few,_ _but can you really blame me?_ She looked like an angel when she slept.

Puck and I were fucking hot in our Halloween pictures together that Kurt had taken for us once my body paint was finally finished. Swiping through, all of my friends' costumes were great. _Especially Quinn's._ Aside from the shit with Finn, that was such a good night.

I paused at a picture of Puck and his mother fighting over a wishbone at Thanksgiving. She had told him that he didn't need the use of it, because she knew all of his dreams were going to come true. _It was freakin' cute._

I couldn't remember ever having a better Thanksgiving. Quinn even came over eventually after she was done with her own familial responsibilities. Puck's mom ultimately managed to convince us to play Monopoly. For the record, Quinn only won because she was a dirty cheat of a banker.

Winter break was more of the same, as Puck's mom began to realize how truly absent my parents were. She wasn't like the other mothers. She wasn't as caught up in the small town gossip, and thus wasn't well-versed in everyone's situations. She was focused on taking care of her son, and wasn't concerned with playing stupid political housewife games. She was an amazing woman. It explained why Puck had so many awesome qualities.

She made a real effort to involve me in their family traditions. They were Jewish, but I didn't care. Religion doesn't make a family, in my opinion. Otherwise, Quinn and I would have the greatest families of all time. I was invited over Christmas day as well, even though they didn't celebrate it. Puck's mom maintained that I wasn't going to be alone. By March, she was insisting that I call her "Momma Puck."

Quinn for her part, brought over this Rachel Berry sized Christmas tree to the house, despite my protests that the maid was going to curse me out in broken Spanish if the needles got everywhere. She carried it inside herself, like a total BAMF. She contended that it was necessary to have a proper place to put my presents. She was the cutest.

Apparently, my presents for her weren't quite good enough, because she declared that I owed her a photoshoot in only a Santa's hat as well. I was pretty sure that I could have gifted her with her very own island and she still would have declared that the photoshoot was required.

I had "snapped" a picture of us on New Year's with our matching ludicrous hats at Dakota's party. Quinn was wearing her tipsy smile, and I was kissing her perfectly sculpted cheek. We looked so happy that it was borderline disgusting. She told me that night that I needed to go ahead and pencil her name in for every New Year's following. She clapped her hand over her mouth as soon as she said it, but I kissed her embarrassment away.

_Sometimes dreams they don't come true  
I was scared that night when I met you  
Well, I stayed patient and I was kind  
Telling you to take your time _

When she finally found the nerve to show me her Yale acceptance letter, I forced her to take a campy picture with it. She was nowhere near as thrilled as I had expected her to be. My girlfriend, who ruled over our entire school, was actually shaking by the time I was finished taking her picture. I spent that entire night making love to her, assuring her with every whisper, kiss, and touch that wherever I ended up, I would still be hers.

_Turn my life around  
You made it okay to let you down  
There's no one else in the world  
You will always be my girl  
You will always be, you will always be  
You will always be my girl_

I had a handful pictures from our senior class trip to the ski resort. Quinn made so much fun of me that day; she was convinced that I was dressed for the apocalypse rather than a ski trip. _Cold just isn't my thing, okay?_

Snowboarding seemed fun and all, but the cold aspect of it, I could do without. She did look adorable in my goggles though.

She saved my ass more than once as I ran into fences, other people, and even a ski lift post. Due to her family's affinity for skiing, she was definitely more comfortable on the slopes than I was. She was aggravatingly graceful, and she zig-zagged through other people like it was nothing.

I, on the other hand, was a danger to myself and others. I wasn't accustomed to being _that_ bad at anything, and I was all kinds of embarrassed that our whole senior class could see me flailing and yelping while sliding helplessly down the bunny hills to my inevitable doom. People were _not_ supposed to see me like that. _Ever._

Quinn wasn't a snowboarder though, and I had refused to ski, so Puck spent most of the day attempting to teach me on the less advanced hills, even though I knew he was capable of going down the more challenging ones with his snowboard.

Quinn made frequent appearances though. She had impeccable timing. To my embarrassment, I was usually face first in the snow when she came around.

It was almost worth it to hear her melodic laugh as she brushed the snow off of my burning face, however. Puck even stood guard for us at one point, holding up his own snowboard for us to block anyone from seeing us as we kissed. He only tried to peek in on us once, before Mercedes came barreling down the hill on her skis, managing to knock all three of us down.

Mercedes told us repeatedly that winter that she was grateful that science had not advanced to the point where Quinn and I could make children. She argued that that much pretty would be the end of the world as we knew it. I had to agree with her on the prettiness, we were a pretty smokin' couple.

_So when I'm walking down the road and feeling bad  
Can't understand the things you do  
Nothing turns out the way we planned  
You're still my baby and I'm still your man _

I swear that during that winter Quinn purposefully wore her purple and midnight blue scarves as frequently as possible. She found a way to coordinate them with an unusual amount of different outfits. I transformed instantly into the one word wonder every time. She loved every second of it. Especially with all of the creative ways that I found to get her alone on those days.

Work hired a replacement for Sadie early in the New Year. He was some broad-shouldered artsy-fartsy jackass named Trevor. He was a junior from the school that Sadie went to, and although he looked like our jock boys he was all sensitive and shit.

It _was_ nice to have a permanent dance instructor to teach with again, because it really was awkward trying to demonstrate with middle schoolers. But, Sadie and I used to trade off who led the dances, and of course, this guy assumed that he would be leading every time. _Whatever._ I guess it would have been a little strange for me to be leading his 6'2 ass around the floor.

Despite all of the muscles, the kid wasn't a football player, or a baseball player, he was on the dance team. He loved going to New York to see the ballet with his parents. He loved visiting all of the museums. He could spend days wandering the halls of The Met, he claimed.

His perfectly coifed hair could have given Kurt some hair competition. I figured he was on team gay before the end of our first conversation. He complimented my eye makeup on our second day of work for Christ's sake, and I never caught him checking out my ass like the rest of the guys we worked with.

I didn't have a problem with him at first, in fact, I was starting to like the guy. He was smart and really good with the kids. They loved him, actually, and it was nice to have a break from them whining about Sadie being gone. After our first couple weeks together, I was contemplating inviting him around to hang out with the group sometime. Rachel and Tina would have loved to pick his brain.

Quinn had taken two weeks off of work to visit Yale with her parents, and to help her father with some more bullshit. On her first day back, when Trevor and I were leaving our "studio" space, Quinn was also leaving her class. I was very aware of how his steps almost slowed to a stop at the sight of her. I was also very aware of his lovestruck expression when I introduced the two of them. Boy was not gay. _So not gay._

After that it was like every time I looked away for a second, he was by her side chattin' her up. He knew about things that went way over my head. He could discuss photography crap and the brush techniques of various artists. He made her laugh the laugh that I loved so much at jokes that I didn't even get. It was a shitty feeling.

It wasn't typical jealousy for me. I had been jealous of every boy she had ever been with, but this was different. He made me insecure, and I didn't wear that look well. _Oh my god, and he would talk to me about her!_

* * *

_ "So you and Quinn have been friends for pretty much forever?" Trevor asks with this stupid expectant look on his too-perfect face. _

_ "Yes. We're very close." I answer as I scrub down one of the mirrors, glaring at him in the reflection. __Very close._

_ He stands there behind me, not helping me at all, by the way, with his hands in the pockets of his dance pants, pushing them down just enough that I can see the hip "V" that always seems to drive the hetero girls crazy. _

_I'm about as gay as it gets, but I can still appreciate the "V". But his, his I don't appreciate one fucking bit. It makes me want to force feed him a mountain of cheeseburgers while an IV pumps chocolate milkshakes mercilessly into his body. _

_ "Is she seeing anyone?" He swallows, and it almost endearing how unsure of himself this Adonis is. It probably would be endearing to anyone else, but I want to shove him out the door and tell him that we don't want none of his charm here. _

_Yes. Yes. A Million Times Yes. _

_ "She's taking a break from all of that while she focuses on getting ready for college." I lied. _

_It is what we had agreed to say. Quinn hasn't gone a significant amount of time without a relationship since the eighth grade. Even during her "off" seasons, she was always linked to a romantic interest of some sort. Relationships are her thing. _

_ And this is Quinn we're talking about here. People are bound to ask her out, and people are bound to ask why she doesn't have a boyfriend when she has so many boys chomping at the bit to get at her. But, she's also known for her ambition and that laser focus of hers. It isn't unthinkable that she would toss relationships aside for a while to concentrate on preparing for her future of success. _

_ As for me, people don't ask why I'm not in a relationship. Come to think of it, that would be pretty laughable if someone did. I have never been considered to be the relationship kind of gal. _

_I am definitely a relationship girl now. That's for sure. _

_ "Oh. That's a shame. For me, that is, but it's great that she's so driven." He appears sad, but not completely defeated. How very sensitive of him. _

_Yeah. It is. She's great. I'm aware of this because I'm her fucking girlfriend. I love the shit out of that girl. Step Off. _

_ "You should respect what she wants." My teeth grit with my directive and my grip tightens on the spray bottle I'm holding as I turn to face him. _

_ "I know, but you wouldn't understand. She isn't like the girls that go to my school. It's like I never realized how polluted the air I had been breathing all of this time was until I breathed in her fresh air." His blue eyes contract in their dreamy state, and I hate him. _

_ "That's the gayest thing I've ever heard." I snap, and the asshole just smiles at me as if he feels sorry that I'll never feel what he feels. _

_I feel everything. She's not just my fresh air. She's my air. Period. _

_ "I have to tell her. With her leaving in a few months, I will regret it forever if I don't." He asserts, and I can barely keep myself from throwing my spray bottle at his chiseled jaw. _

_ "That's pretty dramatic, don't you think, Twinkle Toes?" I growl, and his eyes narrow. _

_ "Do we have a problem? You were cool the first couple of weeks, and now you're either rolling your eyes at me or throwing insults in my direction. I think it's safe to say that you're one of the rudest people I have ever met." He stresses, and I smile condescendingly at how very polite and weak his insulting ability is. _

_ "You had big heels to fill here, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hideous, and you're failing miserably at it." I lie again. _

_Sadie was great, but Trevor will be at her level within a year or less. He surely isn't failing. _

_ "When I started here, people said that you were a bitch, but that you used to be even worse. I don't know how anyone tolerated being around you." He wonders, and I think I finally have my opening. _

_ "Did you just call me a bitch?" I step forward in challenge. _

_Give me an excuse, fuckwad. _

_ "No. I have respect for other people. Something that you sorely lack." He corrects and now he's the condescending one. _

_ "I will ends you." I threaten as I take another step._

_ "You're a joke." He smiles contemptuously down at me, and I drop the spray bottle and the towel. _

_ "What are you two doing?" My girlfriend's voice interrupts, and I wonder how much she has heard. _

_ I glance over at her, and I instantly come close to regretting how I've been treating Trevor, and not because of how angry Quinn looks. I get it. Above all people I get it. _

_ She has paint on her pants, and her hair is in a messy bun that tells me that she forgot to put it up before her class, and had struggled to do so properly without getting paint in her hair part way through her lesson. _

_ She's beautiful. Trevor isn't the first person who has fallen in love at the sight of her. He won't be the last. _

_ But god, she is so much more than that. _

_ "Dancing, obviously. Prince Mediocre here has something to tell you, Q." His eyes widen in alarm, and I smirk in triumph. _

_ Quinn, for her part, just looks confused. _

_ "Santana. Be nice." She commands, and I cross my arms, waiting for the blowhard to confess his undying love for my girlfriend. _

_ "I'm not going to say it with you here." He states, pulling his hands out of his pockets. _

_ "Say what?" Quinn inquires, and I watch her as she takes careful note of my body language. _

_ "I'll take these supplies to the closet, and I'll meet you by the front desk when I'm done. This shouldn't take long. He seems like the one minute kinda man anyway." I snatch the basket, and flash Trevor a warning glance on my way out of the room. _

_ If he is going to tell her, and least it is going to be on my terms. _

_ I count as the minutes pass on my phone once I reach the front desk. Six whole minutes have passed, and just as I am about to charge in there and throw that meathead off of my girlfriend, Quinn finally emerges. _

_ The target of my constant affection appears to be pained, and my heartbeat becomes rapid. He can give her so many things that I can't. _

_ "You're an idiot." She breathes, taking my hand to lead me out to my car. _

_ I'm afraid to ask. It's been building in me for weeks. Questions that I have, but questions that I fear the answers to. My music plays as soon as I start my car. _

**_She's out of my league  
And that's the kind of girl I need  
I am the underdog  
But I'm about to take the lead  
You can't worry about the others  
They can't turn my head  
And when I'm with another I wish it was you instead._**

_ "Is this why you've been treating him like we treated Berry sophomore year?" Those eyes of hers are on me as I pull out of the parking lot, but I can't bring myself to look into them. _

_ "He's an asshole." I mumble. _

_ "Yeah…he's really not. Not at all. He's sweet actually." She argues, and my jaw tightens. _

**_I'm not trying to force it  
But I've got one thing on my mind  
I'm not going anywhere soon  
I'm on a mission baby I've got the time_**

_ "Got it. Well, that certainly explains why you've been batting your eyes at him and flirting with him for weeks." I reply bitterly, watching as my knuckles go white on the steering wheel._

_ I left my gloves at work. Don't really care at this point though. _

_ "Pull over." She orders, and I ignore her. _

_ "Santana. Pull. Over." She emphasizes in her not-taking-no-for-an-answer tone, and I sigh heavily as I turn into the nearest parking lot. _

_ "What? I know how much easier it would be for you with him. Your family would love him. He looks like a fucking movie star. He likes all the same stuff you like." I realize how bitter and pathetic I sound, but I can't seem to stop myself. _

**_Let me in, might as well be with you  
Let me in, I know how to make you miss me.  
I got a secret for you, if you promise not to tell  
Sometimes you feel a little closer to heaven when you raise a little hell._**

_ "He's great, but he has this one huge flaw, and it's a total deal breaker." She contends, and my eyebrows rise, putting the car in park before finally twisting my neck to look at her. _

_ "And what's that?" I ask. Seriously, it's like this guy was created just for her. _

_ "He isn't you." She smiles at me softly. _

**_You ain't got worry about the others  
They could never be this real_**

_ "I watch for you. I always have. I'm constantly waiting for you to enter the room, because I know that once you do, I will feel more alive. I have looked upon this face of yours almost every day for the past thirteen years, and it still takes my breath away. Remember that night at the nightclub when you asked me what my water was? It's you. Loving you is like swimming for a fish, or dancing for Brittany. I belong with you." Quinn confesses, and her eyes never leave mine. _

_ My breathing slows as she works to assuage my fears. _

_ I do remember asking her the question as Brittany was dancing. We weren't supposed to be calling attention to ourselves, and there our tall friend was in the middle of a large circle doing just that. Quinn had said that just like you can't put a fish in water and expect it not to swim, you can't put Brittany in a nightclub and expect her not to dance._

_ "You don't ever miss, you know, being with guys?" I ask hesitantly, and I watch as her lips twitch. I think she's trying not to laugh. _

_I know it's stupid but sometimes I wonder if she ever pictures someone of the opposite gender when she's with me. It's stupid because I can always see how very there she is with me. All I have to do is look at the way she looks at me. The answer is always there. It's a shame that it took me so long to notice it. _

_ "Are you serious, San? Baby, I'm not missing anything with you. I have everything with you. This isn't about gender for me." She leans over the center console, cradling the side of my neck with her hand. _

_"You are the one part of my life that no one has pushed me to go after. You are the one thing that is just for me. You are the one thing that I have done completely for myself. I chose you of my own accord. I am not with you for my parents, or my popularity, or my grades, or my reputation…You are all mine. My choice. My love. My everything." Her hazel pleads with me to believe every word. _

_Usually when Quinn says "big" things to me they are by accident. A slip of the tongue, or a hurriedly sent text. Here she is putting my feelings above her own insecurities. The gravity of her feelings for me scare her, just as the gravity of my feelings for her scare me. _

**_You'll feel it with me  
You'll feel it with me_**

_ "I love you." I proclaim against her lips as if those three words could even hope to compare with everything that she just said. _

_ "I love you too, baby." She must be confident that the parking lot is empty, because she doesn't make her usual scan around us before pressing her lips to mine. _

_The caress of her lips calms my anxieties but excites my heart. I shift to reach to touch her cheek, but I halt at the sensation of her lips spreading into a smile against mine. _

_ "What are you cheesing about?" I inquire. Her smile is infectious, even if I have no idea why she's smiling. _

_ She lifts her thumb, pushing it affectionately into the dimple on my cheek. _

_ "It's just funny to me to think that you would actually worry about me leaving you for someone else. Sometimes I really worry about your sanity." She muses, and I turn my head to playfully bite down on her thumb. _

_ "It wasn't that long ago that you chucked my favorite drumsticks across the studio, Q." I remind her, and her smile transforms into a mischievous one. _

_ She begins to outline my lips with her middle finger. _

_ "Last month when we were in Victoria's Secret and the saleswoman asked me if I wanted her to measure my bust, you threatened to "bust" her perverted face in." She counters, as she continues with her distracting attentions to my lips. _

_ It's almost enough to sidetrack me from responding to her adequately. _

_ "You didn't see how she was looking at you! Also, there were at least two dozen other people in that store and she beelined it straight for you." I argue, although it is difficult to speak properly now that her finger is running leisurely along my bottom lip. _

_ I slide my tongue out to meet her finger before dipping my head down to bring the tip into my mouth. _

_ I watch with great interest as her irises contract, and her breath hitches audibly. _

_ "And when the clerk at the skate rink offered to help me put on my skates?" Her voice has almost lost its challenging tone, but the girl is definitely trying. _

_ "Have you seen your legs? I mean c'mon…" I hum against the tip of her finger, sucking lightly as I wait for her retort. _

_ "I was wearing jeans!" She contends with a shaky husk. _

_ "You could be wearing a fucking snuggie, and you would still look hot, Q." I explain, gliding my tongue along the length of her finger before taking it completely into my mouth. She tastes faintly of acrylic paint, but I don't care. _

_ "You would hit on me in a snuggie?" She questions quietly, her chest heaving under my gaze. _

_ "It's better if we don't test that one, babe." I pause for a moment, reveling in her half lidded eyes before I answer. _

_ "Enough talking. Take us home." She commands, withdrawing her finger from my mouth, and deliberately placing her hand near the inside of my thigh. _

_ It's all the encouragement I need._

* * *

I just couldn't help myself from recording evidence of Quinn's cooking efforts for my birthday. Shit was everywhere, and the food looked a mess. It tasted even worse, but fuck me if I was going to tell her that. She was so nervous, and had worked so hard. She had borrowed her mother's cooking manuals and everything for the process. Apparently, she wasn't a natural at everything. _ Most things, yes. Cooking, hell no. _

She knew I was lying when I claimed to love every bite, but I finished my entire plate anyway. I even tried going back for seconds to provide evidence for my enthusiasm before she wrestled my plate from my hands and fucked me against the fridge instead. Dinner was a D- but the sex was an A+.

I scanned through a few pictures of Quinn not just sleeping in bed, but sleeping in all kinds of random places. Awkward positions on airplanes, her chair in the choir room, the football bleachers, half-on-half-off of one of the mats in my basement, her AP calculus seat, the trampoline in the gymnasium, partially wrapped in a curtain in the auditorium…that girl could fall asleep anywhere. It was one of many quirks of hers that I loved so much. Admittedly, more often than not, it was my fault that she was so tired.

I also had a series of pictures of some of her sketches from her sketchbook. She was always very careful about which drawings she allowed me to see. Some of her sketchbooks were completely off limits, but I loved every single thing that she permitted me to see. My girlfriend was unbelievably talented.

* * *

_I am sitting cross-legged on the floor, just outside of Quinn's bedroom closet with one of her sketchbooks open in my lap. Quinn is alternating erratically between pacing behind me, and crashing down on her bed to make fruitless study attempts. _

_ "Q baby, for the fiftieth time, I don't have to look at this if you don't want me to. I know this shit is super personal for you, and frankly it is hard to focus on it with you huffing and puffing behind me the whole time." I offer, tipping my head straight back to look up at the anxious beauty. _

_ She bends down to kiss me from above, and she tastes like the dark chocolate that I had brought over for her. I'm not a dark chocolate fan, it has always tasted a little too bitter for me, but on her lips it tastes like heaven. Her lips could make me a fan of anything. _

_ "I want to share with you. I'm just not used to it. My soul is exposed on those pages, you know?" She explains, running her fingers through my hair, leaving my scalp tingling when her touch disappears. _

_ The thing is, I don't know. I don't have something like this. Playing my drums for people was intimate for me, yes, but it still wasn't the same. My pages of truths are about as close as I can come to this, but I know that this is more of her than I could fit in three weeks worth of words in her locker. _

_ "Here, love." I place the sketchbook off to the side, and hook my arm around her knees bringing her onto my lap with her back to me. _

_ I wrap her up tightly in my arms knowing that it calms her to feel absolutely enveloped. I rest my chin on her shoulder as she nuzzles down into me. I will never get enough of her citrus and vanilla scent. _

_ "Show me what you want me to see." I request, and she reaches for the sketchbook. _

_ Her touch is so delicate on each page, as if she is concerned that a firm touch will somehow transport her back to where she was when she made each sketch. I study her with as much interest as I do her pages. There is more emotion on her face than I can possibly comprehend. _

_ "Why so many threes?" I ask, after a few minutes of sitting in our intimate silence. _

_ Three trees, three people, three swings, three moons, three intertwined shapes, three musical notes, three clouds, three rings, three televisions, three books, three lamps…on every page there are three of something, something that is distinct from the rest of the drawing. _

_ "If I tell you, you can't tease me about it, okay?" She caresses the three windows in the current sketch. _

_ "I won't." I promise, kissing the side of her neck to punctuate my vow. _

_ "These are all from before we exchanged "I love you"s. It was my way of expressing it when I was too afraid to say it to you out loud. This is going to sound really stupid, and I'm not sure if you ever noticed it, but I also used to squeeze your hand three times, or I would leave three marks on your skin, or pat your thigh three times when I wanted to say it but was too scared to do so." She confesses bashfully, and I kiss her shoulder. _

_ "I think that's the most adorable thing I've ever heard." I proclaim, and she elbows me spiritedly in the stomach. _

_ "You said you wouldn't tease me!" She whines, and I laugh, holding her firmly in my lap despite her attempts to escape. _

_ "I'm being serious." I inform her, and she stops trying to wiggle off of me. _

_ I turn her head to achieve as much eye contact as possible given our position. _

_"I wish I knew how to articulate how talented I think you are, babe. I'm in awe of you." I explain, and the flush of her cheeks is immediate. _

_ "I hate it when you make me blush." She complains, but leans back into me to rest her heated cheek against mine. _

_ "Hey, don't knock the blush. My search of that blush is what started this whole thing." I chastise her teasingly. _

_I find her hand, pressing my thumbnail into the flesh of her palm, firmly applying pressure, dragging my thumb down like I did on my birthday before she kissed me. To this day, it never fails to make her hips arch. _

_ She inhales sharply before releasing a loud exhale. _

_ "It's nice to have something. You have all of these talents like your drumming and your voice and your…" She lists, and I close my eyes at her ridiculousness._

_ "You're so talented, don't even start. Do you remember the day when you made us go over to Brittany's house to work on putting together our tryout for Glee?" I remind her._

_ "Yes. You bitched the entire time we were there, and said that I was going to turn the Unholy Trinity into Loser Cubed. You also said that I sucked so badly that we probably weren't even going to get in. Oh, and that you were going to laugh in my face the first time I got slushied." She recounts, and I pull my face away from hers to blanch against her neck._

_Fuck, I was horrible to her. _

_ "I hate how good your memory is sometimes. Here's the real story, Blondie. When you showed us what you were planning for "Say A Little Prayer", you gave me goosebumps. And they wouldn't go away for anything. I was so afraid that you were going to see them that I claimed to be freezing and ran up to Brit's room to steal one of her sweatshirts." I relay the truth, and I feel her sigh against me. _

_ "That's funny, because looking back, I'm pretty sure that the first time I heard you sing Valerie, I felt something that could only be described as gay panic." She confesses, and I laugh into the curve of her neck, urging her to show me more of her sketches._

* * *

And from that day forward when we were around other people, three taps on a surface was how we communicated our love, three blinks of an eye in a crowded room, three squeezes made with hidden hands.

With another swipe of my finger I came upon a picture that Puck had sent me of Quinn and I's embrace after our senior Powderpuff win. We dominated that field as Juniors and we annihilated as Seniors. They never stood a chance in hell. We were Titans.

Mercedes had taken Prom pictures of Quinn and me for us at my house, despite the fact that Quinn and I were, of course, not going together. I was definitely off that day during all of the preparations. Dealing with all of the memories of the year previous, coupled with not being able to go with my girlfriend to prom had put me in quite the dark mood.

Quinn was so patient with me that day. Every time I snapped at her, she would just do or say something sweet in return. I didn't even have to explain to her why I was upset. She just knew. Whenever I lost myself in thoughts of her date dancing with her instead of me, she would remind me of what I did to her in the dressing room while we were prom dress shopping. She always knew how to lift my spirits.

Puck was my date, and honestly, since I couldn't have Q, he was the only other person in the world who I wanted by my side that night.

I asked him to accompany me in front of all of the Glee dorks, in the form of a song, naturally. I sang a cheeky version of "Tainted Love" and he accepted my proposal without giving me too much gruff about it. Sure, I wasn't going to bang him, but I was a hell of a lot of fun, and he loved me.

Quinn went with Joe. He was the perfect choice for her super-Christian family since he was the President of the Breakfast Club (not like the movie, but the religious group). I was not happy with her choice. I actually really liked Teen Jesus, and it wasn't just my irrational jealousy that bothered me about the situation.

I _was_ jealous that he would get to dance with her when I had to keep a particular distance, sure, but my main concern was him. Quinn was so beautiful, and sweet, and charming, and he was bound to feel something that night that she couldn't reciprocate. I shouldn't have cared, because I knew in my gut, that she would never feel that way about him. She was all mine. She had made that clear countless times. But, it felt pretty shitty to me that Joe's feelings were a casualty of our secret relationship.

Still, Prom was nowhere near the dramatic affair that it had been in years past. Puck and I won King and Queen. Which was nice, I'm not gonna lie.

Kurt apparently came in a close second for Prom Queen which was an unfortunately clear indication that our school was still full of its share of bigoted assholes. I never told him about the votes. Some things are better to just not know.

People got real messy at the after party, which I had hosted once again. It was the last Prom for many of us and we celebrated. _Hard._

Now usually, I could hold my alcohol. But that night, I definitely drank past my limit. How could I not with Brittany blubbering about how everything was going to change, forcing me to make a promise to keep in touch with every shot she had us take?

Unfortunately, that night ended with me hugging the toilet. My drunk ass had barricaded the door with all of the towels I could find, because there was no way in hell that I was going to let anyone, Quinn especially, see me empty the contents of my stomach.

Not-so-drunk Quinn outsmarted trashed Santana, however, and breached my towel barricade. She held my hair back, rubbed my back, fetched me water, and did all of the proper caretaker things.

I whined the entire time about how unattractive it was and how she was never going to want to have sex with me again. I told her that she was going to find some hot girl at Yale that she had never had to watch yak.

She repeated the words I had said to her once on her driveway, only with her own twist. "Haven't you realized that I would rather hold your hair back while you're getting sick than fuck anyone else?" I remembered just groaning in response. In that moment, she was so pretty, and she smelled so good, and she was being so sweet, and there I was, a sloppy drunken mess. It wasn't fair. It was the first time I had ever had someone there for me like that.

She was a lot of firsts for me.

Thanks to my wonderful girlfriend and the fact that I had probably emptied myself of any alcohol in my system, I felt relatively fine the next morning. I was in the middle of cooking with a grumpy hungover Puck (there was no way I was letting Quinn near the kitchen) when Quinn discovered that Mike was passed out half naked out on the porch. The three of us carried him inside as soon as we were able to get some semblance of control over our laughter. It was proof that I did not have the roughest night of the bunch.

While I did say that Prom was much less dramatic than the year before, the days following sure weren't.

It started with a local news crew showing up at our school. There was a slight buzz around the appearance, but nothing major. Coach Sue had always had her share of local stories and interviews. She was a National champion cheerleading coach and she was quite the character.

I never would have guessed that the crew was there for me.

**McKinley student who was crowned Senior Prom Queen was attacked at last year's prom**

The headline eventually read. I hadn't really thought through the whole irony of the situation before it was so boldly pointed out to me.

It was written like a story of triumph. The writer acted like I had rose from the ashes or some shit, when in reality, it was Quinn and my friends who had pulled me from the wreckage.

The crew found me in Glee and I was not the only person that they chose to interview. Puck, for example, was quoted in the article itself. The small-time reporter asked him if I went with him to Prom because I feared the repercussions of taking a girl again. He said something along the lines of, "No. She's not scared. She's the toughest person I know."

Despite his attitude during the interview, he was pretty excited to see his name in print when the article came out.

I was asked a similar question, and I informed the nosey woman that taking Puck as my date this year had nothing to do with what had happened last year. I said that, "People should be able to take whoever they want to go with to Prom regardless of sexual orientation. It shouldn't matter. It's stupid that it does."

I didn't know if they had expected for the story to be about how last year had forced me to jump back into the lavender closet, but that was certainly not what they ended up with.

My mom called me within an hour of the article's online posting. I was sure that she had some sort of alert set up for her search engines for the important people in her life. She never knew when she was going to have to do some "fixing" unrelated to her work. I hadn't even told her about Prom Queen yet, but she was so proud.

I knew through the phone that her eyes were watering when she declared, "Baby, you are going to do such big things." Despite my better instincts, I asked her why she sounded like she was about to cry. My mom was not a quiet woman, but she responded softly, "I just wish I could take more credit for the woman you are becoming, mija."

In true Lopez woman nature, she made an excuse to get off the phone before I could listen to her start to cry. It was difficult for me to feel too much sympathy in that moment. I knew it had to be hard as a mother to not have an active role in your child's life. But really, that had been her choice. She chose her career.

I didn't hate her for it. I knew that I was an accident that resulted from a mistake made between two people who never belonged together. I wasn't sure that my mother had ever wanted children, and my father, well he would have rather had someone like Judy Fabray to come home to than my mother. When my mom was knocked up, because of my father's family, marriage was the only option.

But, it was foolish for her to think that she didn't deserve credit for the person I had become. She had taught me many things. Good and bad. Without the choices she had made, I would be nowhere near as strong or as independent as I was. I probably wouldn't have needed to find a family within my friends.

With a different mother, maybe I would have been more like Quinn, too afraid to explore. Maybe I would care more about expectations, if there were people who actually had expectations for me. No one waited with bated breath to see if I was going to be Valedictorian. No one had placed all of my application dates on a calendar in the center of my kitchen. No one had registered me as a legacy for a sorority with the expectation of me pledging one.

Anyway, benching my mother issues for now, the local article was picked up for syndication from various news sources within a week of being published. I was getting phone calls with questions to my house (yes, my mom still insisted on having a house phone). People were bugging Coach Sylvester and Mr. Schue. The article was posted on various websites, accompanied by the YouTube video that the AV geek had posted the year before.

Apparently the whole thing inspired some people or some shit.

It became a big issue around town, to say the least. Figgins was catching shit for supposedly promoting "queerness" at our school, whatever that means.

I received a request from a nationwide anti-bullying initiative to speak at a couple middle schools and high schools in Ohio, as well as New York after I was settled in there. I said yes. I didn't think that that was the sort of thing that someone could say no to. But, I only agreed to the whole shebang after making sure that it was okay that I didn't exactly have the cleanest slate in the bullying department. Apparently many of their speakers were former bullies themselves.

I made Kurt come with me to the Ohio ones. I knew he had experienced far more animosity when he came out than what I did. It seemed very therapeutic for him. His dad even came with us once. Burt Hummel almost made me fucking cry with the way he spoke about his son, and how brave he thought Kurt was. Kurt was lucky that he had Burt with him every step of the way.

With the anti-bullying component, a counter campaign was initiated in Lima. Spearheaded, in part, by none other than Russell Fabray. He even spoke on the local news with a few others about how anti-bullying groups were really just anti-religious freedom groups. They claimed that anti-bullying organizations discouraged students from speaking out about their beliefs, and promoted the acceptance of morally reprehensible lifestyles. _Sure, Russell. Sure._

Needless to say, there was a shaky period there where Quinn had to sneak out of the house to be able to see me outside of school. Once summer started, we spent much of our time hanging at Mercedes' or Puck's houses. I was grateful for her restaurant outburst in November, because it was indescribably nice to be able to hold my girlfriend's hand around other people. Behind closed doors while no one else was around, but nice all the same.

We spent much of that summer as a foursome due to the circumstances of our situation. I wasn't complaining. Mercedes and Puck were two of my favorite people.

Before summer kicked off, however, Quinn and I took the most impressive group of Cheerios yet to Nationals to win our final National title. We kissed Dakota simultaneously on the cheek on the day she was given her C necklace. We were very much like proud cheerleading parents.

Quinn and I took our final picture together in the Captain office shortly after Nationals. We posed on the desk as I held my phone over our heads. There were more than six pictures, because Quinn kept turning to kiss me at the last second, and I really wanted a normal picture of the two of us.

We weren't just girlfriends after all. We had successfully led together and that was a giant accomplishment for two HBICs to have. Sure, we had our leadership disagreements, even those that couldn't be solved by angry frustrated sex, but they made our squad better. They made us better.

The picture of us laughing was taken just after Quinn had joked about spraying down the desk. She argued that we probably owed it to Dakota to clean the desk after all of our activities that had taken place on it while the door was locked and the blinds were drawn, and I protested, arguing that it gave the desk character.

I wondered out loud if we were the first co-captains to get busy on that desk, and she boob tapped me with this expression on her face that made it clear that she had never contemplated that before. _As if she wouldn't have hit this anyway. I mean, really._

Unlike our four years of cheerleading national titles, our national Glee win was our first. We finally won Nationals. That was an odd sort of thought, because hundreds of glee clubs, maybe even thousands, never even made it to Nationals, and yet I thought "finally" when the title was actually ours. Maybe I was just accustomed to greatness, or maybe I just wanted my Glee family to feel as special as they were. _Lame, I know._

After I finished smiling like a goofball at all of our Glee Nationals pictures, I bit down on my lower lip, forcing myself to push away the memory of the day when we seniors said goodbye to the choir room.

* * *

_Mike is crying quietly, while Rachel all out sobs in Kurt's arms, although he is obviously attempting to avoid getting his pleated shirt wet. Mercedes and Puck sit in the seats that they had often frequented, and Mercedes tries to calm everyone down by saying that we would always be close. It only serves to make Rachel cry harder. _

_ Brittany, Quinn and I all hold hands in silence. _

_We entered that room as purported infiltrators. We were there to ruin the Glee club, and to ensure that Finn wasn't going to ditch Quinn for the Hobbit. _

_ We entered that room as three girls who believed that being at the top of the school food chain was the most important place to be. We entered that room believing ourselves to be some sort of superior beings. _

_ We are leaving as equals. _

_ "We aren't dying here, people." Quinn reminds all of us. She's putting on a brave face, but I know her heart is breaking just as much as the rest of ours are. _

_ "But this is where our dysfunctional little family was born." Kurt responds. _

_ "I never thought it would or could be like this." Mike speaks, wiping his face on his sleeve. I want to hug him, but I know that will make it worse. _

_He has one of the shittiest situations of all of us. Tina is only going to be a senior next year, and Mike is going to some tech school in Texas. The day he told me his plans, I swore to him that if he ever stopped dancing, I was going to kick his ass. _

_ "If you all are so determined to turn this into some weepy after school special, please tell me that one of you has a drug problem, and that you have brought some to share." Puck pleads from his seat. He's just as bad as Quinn. He loves this place, and he loves these people. _

_ As for me, I can't even look at Puck. At least Quinn and I will only be a train ride away from each other come fall. I'm not even sure that I'll be coming back to Ohio for the holidays, because mom is probably going to be selling the house. Even if I was sure about coming back, I can't imagine only seeing my best friend on holidays._

_What the fuck was I supposed to do on Saturday afternoons without him? _

_ I want to punch him for making me love him so much. _

_ "I don't want to ever forget this." Rachel blubbers. _

_ "We have to move on, Rachel. No one said anything about having to forget." I interrupt the pity party. This emotion needs to be reined in, stat. _

_ Rachel unburies her head from Kurt's shoulder to look at me strangely. _

_Oh, I called her Rachel. Weird. _

_Brittany kisses my cheek, and rests her head on my shoulder, but I pull away to leave the room before I turn into a sobbing mess like the Hobbit._

* * *

I hit the graduation pictures next. It was a bittersweet day, to say the least, and the color of those robes…they were so not flattering. Even so, Puck and I looked pretty adorable.

* * *

_"Stand closer!" Puck's mom orders, as she struggles with balancing her camera and my phone. Puck's grandmother keeps standing forward to assist, but Puck's mom is having none of that. She's continually swatting her mother away._

_ Puck drapes his arm around my shoulders and I wrap mine around his waist. This doesn't feel real. Much of me doesn't feel old enough or ready enough to be graduating. _

_ This is a life event that my mother assured me that she would be here for, but she had some kind of work emergency, of course. I was prepared to drive myself to the indoor stadium. _

_ Puck's mom had ascertained this fact, by calling me on our last day of school. She didn't even bother to go through her son, she went right to the source, and gave me no other option but to come to her house on graduation day. I am blessed. Maybe not, conventionally so, but in every other way, I am. _

_ "But Momma Puck, your son, he has sprayed far too much cologne on himself!" I complain as Puck pulls me tighter to him to make it even worse. _

_ He laughs at my grunt, holding me against his hip as we wait for his mom to take the pictures. _

_ "He only did that to impress you. Goodness knows I have tried to limit him." She giggles, raising her camera to her eye. _

_ "It's better to take it away. Deodorant only policy." I shoot back at her while trying to have the right smile at the right time. _

_ "Maybe if you were his girlfriend he would listen to you." She suggests, wiggling her eyebrows, while snapping the first photo. _

_ Puck groans, as soon as the picture is taken. _

_ "Ma, for the last time, Santana is only my friend." He corrects, gesturing for her to get on with the necessary picture taking. He looks quite handsome in his robes even if the color sucks. _

_ "You two are attached at the hip; it is time you make it official! She's beautiful, and smart, and she keeps you in check. You have to get in there before someone else does." She recommends and her mother nods in agreement behind her. _

_ If this were anyone but his mother, Puck would have jumped at the chance to make a joke about being "in there". _

_Instead, he opens his mouth to speak in my defense, but I nudge him to stop. I don't need him to fight all of my battles for me. _

_ "I can't feel that way about him, Momma Puck. I'm a lesbian." I admit with a swallow. _

_We have been spending a bunch of time together recently, but Puck didn't make his usual sexually lewd lesbian jokes around his mom, and I couldn't exactly talk about my girlfriend, but I thought that he had told his mom at some point. I guess I was wrong. _

_ Puck's grandmother gasps, Puck throws his head back in a loud chuckle and his mother just nods as if she did know all along. _

_ "Oh I know, I just didn't know if there was any wiggle room there for my son." She winks, exchanging her camera for my cellphone to take the next picture. _

_ I let out a sigh of relief, and Puck looks at me as if I should have known that I had nothing to worry about. _

_ "If there was any wiggle room at all, it would be for your son, I assure you, but I'll make sure that he ends up with a good girl though, okay?" I promise, and boy do I mean it. Whoever ended up with my Puck was going to have some big ol' protective best friend hoops to jump through. _

_ "I know you will. You always have a place here. A place with my boy and a place with me. No matter where life takes you." She promises in return, and as sweet as it is, I must say that I am getting tired of all of the emotional conversations lately. _

_ "Ma!" Puck chastises. _

_ Ms. Puckerman's mother is still making a disgusted and confused look in the background, and proceeds to make another disapproving noise. While Puck's mom may have known about my sexuality, his grandmother apparently did not. _

_ Momma Puck turns on her without further hesitation. _

_ "Oh grow up, mom. No one asked you." Puck's mother snaps. _

_ My mouth falls open perfectly in time with Puck's. Puck's mom snaps a picture of our shocked states before she turns completely on her own mother. _

_ "Santana is second in her class. She is a multiple national champion. She can sing like a dream. And she did all that with barely any parents to speak of. She isn't a drug addict. She isn't a criminal. She's a great girl. She kept my son out of trouble for most of high school while I was stuck working nights at the hospital, and she somehow got him to shave that awful landing strip off of his head. I would sooner you pass judgment on me than on her." She rants, and it is another 20 seconds, at least, before I realize that my mouth is still open._

* * *

I had a couple discreet pictures of our Valedictorian, Quinn. From behind, of course, since I was on stage as her Salutatorian. I wasn't even mad that she had beaten me out for the top spot this time. She was so happy and so proud of herself, that I couldn't even bring myself to be jealous. She had earned it.

Additionally, I found out later that night that whispering "Valedictorian" against the canal of her ear was a surefire way to get laid.

The pictures of Quinn and I on the beach weren't as clear as the others in my phone. She refused to stand still for them. It was okay for this girl to take pictures of me stark naked, but she flinched and covered herself whenever I raised my phone to capture an image of the body that I so desired in a bikini.

There were a handful of pictures of my dance students and my drum students. One of my drum students cried on my last day with her. It broke my heart to think about it. I knew what it was like to be left.

Quinn and I closed together on my last day there. She brought her camera with her to work, and spent some time by herself in the storage room taking pictures. We had sex in there for what was probably the dozenth time as soon as she was finished with her pictures.

Being in there together was like an aphrodisiac for us for some reason. Not that we ever needed one. The very first time that we closed together after we started our relationship, she had me crashing into one of the shelves before I could even get out my question that I had about the lights in her paint room.

I was one thrust of her hand in my shorts away from an orgasm when she stopped. To say I was agitated would have been an understatement. When I tried to reach my own hand down to finish what she had started, she smacked it away, snaking her tongue out to clean my wetness off of her own fingers.

I asked her what she was playing at, and she asked me, completely out of the blue if I had ever messed around in the storage room with Sadie. I answered in the negative, which was the truth. When Sadie and I were together I had no interest in doing that with her in the storage room, because that was my space with Quinn. She finished making me orgasm without any further hesitation.

I was in a much better mood than when I started the train ride by the time I reached the pictures I had taken of my mom's apartment to send to Quinn. Not that she hadn't seen it already, but I had made some changes since she had helped me move in.

* * *

_ "How do you expect to fit all of this in your car?" Quinn shouts to me while I'm in my bathroom gathering my toiletries. _

_ "Can't I just strap it to the top of my car or something?" I suggest, and I can hear her signature "Santana is ridiculous" laugh, from my bedroom. _

_ "This is why I told you to wait for me to do this, babe." She scolds, and I run out to tackle her anal retentive ass onto my bed. _

_ She is definitely the organized one between the two of us. I'm plenty fine with throwing everything into boxes and calling it good._

_ "No no no! You can't procrastinate with this anymore." She cries out as I kiss her neck, so I decide that tickling her is a better plan. _

_ She reflexively kicks me in the shin before rolling me over onto my back. _

_ "What am I going to do when I can't touch you every day?" I lament beneath her, allowing my eyes to freely rake over the form of the person I am going to miss most. _

_ "You'll just have to start touching yourself again." She teases, once again avoiding the seriousness of the situation. _

_ "Who says I ever stopped?" I shoot back, and her face is priceless. _

_ "We have sex all the time! Mercedes even found me contact information for a sex therapist when she found out how much we have sex. How is it not enough for you?" She asks incredulously. _

_ I laugh enthusiastically beneath her at her Mercedes admission. As if the powerhouse diva is any sort of sex expert. I make a mental note to see what kind of details Quinn has given Mercedes about our sex life. I am intrigued. _

_ "It's only when your parents take you away from me." I finally concede, and she looks relieved. _

_ "Oh thank god. I was about to drive you to the nearest doctor." She exaggerates, and I roll my eyes, running my hands beneath the hem of her shirt to touch her bare skin. _

_ I can tell from her eyes that she notices that the sadness is back in mine. I don't want to be away from her. I don't want us to change. I don't want the weight of what is to come on my chest._

_ "We'll be okay." She promises, bringing herself flush against me to kiss my jaw. _

_ I am grateful that she was able to convince her parents that she was driving to New York with Rachel Berry to help her move in, while she would be secretly coming with me instead. I am super excited to road trip with her and to have a couple days together in the City before she takes the train to meet her parents at Yale. I am not excited to say goodbye, however. Not one bit. _

_ I find the hallow of her collarbone with my lips and she sighs into me. _

_ "I have to basically redo all of your packing. We don't have time." She breathes, but I know from the reaction of her body that she wants to make time. And I need her. Desperately. _

_ "Q baby, please…" I beg, using the one term of endearment that I know she can't say no to. _

_ "Mm…okay, but no marathon." She concedes, and cranes her head back to give me better access to her neck. _

_ "No marathon." I agree half-heartedly while I help her out of her shorts._

* * *

The last picture one was of what I had done to my room so far. I remembered when I sent that one because it was shortly after Quinn and I had finished having a text argument.

Rachel and I were the only Glee clubbers that were in New York City. She got into NYADA, unsurprisingly, but for some reason Lady Hummel did not. We weren't hanging out or anything, but she had stayed at my place last Friday.

I hadn't invited her, but she had been complaining to me via text and through the duration of a couple voicemails that her roommate was bringing home guys at all times of the day and night and that she hadn't been able to catch any sleep. She claimed that the lack of sleep was really hurting her in her classes, and that she was worried that she was going to get cut from the program.

When I opened the door to the midget, I told her to go away. She asserted that she had to stay over, and she begged me until I finally just walked in the opposite direction of the doorway.

When I complained to Quinn about the Hobbit's presence in my apartment she was hardly sympathetic. In fact, she seemed quite angry with me. Her text response told me as much.

**Santana, you know that she has some kind of thing for you, and you being nice to her is only going to make it worse. **

_Ew. _

For one, I didn't want to think about Rachel's "thing" for me. I'd have to be a total moron not to notice it sometimes, since Berry was anything but subtle, but it wasn't something that I wanted to pay any mind to. I was sure that someday soon the flower cart guy would give her a free leaf and she'd be smitten with that dude instead or maybe one of her classmates would let her borrow a leotard and she'd be in instant crush mode. I really didn't care.

Second, I didn't invite her. I wasn't being nice to her on purpose. Third, her situation _was_ pretty shitty, and we did have an extra room. It wasn't like we were going to have to share a bed or anything like that.

_Whatever._ I didn't think that it was even jealousy that got Quinn all riled. She knew that Berry wasn't on my radar like that. I was sure she was just concerned. Whether she admitted it or not, my girlfriend was fond of the Hobbit.

My nose scrunched, and I turned my legs in the direction of the train window, and away from the man sitting next to me who smelled like rotten Cheetos. This wasn't even the subway. He was suited up, and probably commuting home from work. There was no excuse for that stench_. Not cool, man. Not cool._

I only had a couple more stops until the ride was over.

My phone buzzed in my hands, and I smiled, as always, automatically at the name.

**Quinn: I can't believe that I have to sit through two more classes before I get to see you. I am going to hug you so hard. **

**Santana: That better not be the only "so hard" thing you do to me. **

**Quinn: I promise that it won't be. I'm insanely excited to see you. I'm not going to be able to pay attention. **

**Santana: Welcome to my life. You're a constant distraction. **

I started to stand as the train came to a halt at my station. I was going to have to hurry if I was going to set everything up before Quinn got back to her dorm after her classes. She thought that she was picking me up from the train station in a few hours when, in reality, I was surprising her.

_I know, Santana Lopez the romantic. Who would have ever thought? _


	38. Chapter 38

**XXXVIII**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Apparently, I had more than enough time to prepare everything for her. Her RA had been an easier sell than I had expected. She had let me into Quinn's dorm without me having to resort to bribes or flirtation. All she required was a simple explanation that I was here to surprise my friend from high school.

Now that I thought of it, the ease of my entrance was unsettling. _What if I had been a psychopath?_ I was definitely going to have to talk to Quinn about this.

Besides running through dangerous scenarios, I was biding my time by purposefully avoiding Quinn's desk. It was certainly challenging when there was a card with my name on it resting on a large, artsy looking book. I was itching to open both of them. I had never claimed to be a patient person.

Earlier, I had gone through some of her drawers to occupy my time.

_It's a thing I do._

I took a guilty step back from the desk at the distinctive click of the key turning in the door. To my frustration, the door didn't open right away.

The anticipation of seeing her after four weeks was killing me. I was bouncing on my heels, shifting my hips with the ridiculous purpose of determining what the best way to stand would be for when she opened the door.

_Open the fucking door, Q. _

I mentally urged her, groaning at the sound of muffled voices outside.

"I'm sorry I can't this weekend, but I'll try to make it down next week!" My beautiful girlfriend called over her shoulder as she finally opened the door to step inside.

I was beaming. Just having her there, standing a few feet away from me had me cheesing like a complete goober. I was so madly in love.

I definitely captured that moment in my mind. _Candid Quinn._ I took in every detail, her hint of a smile as she set down her bag, her eyes intently focused on her phone as she texted while pushing the door closed with her other hand. Her smile must have been for me, because my phone buzzed on her desk.

She glanced away from her text screen in confusion.

_And then she saw me. _

"Santana!" She screamed with that one in a million Quinn Fabray smile, and jumped into my arms with as much force as she did after scoring the winning touchdown at our Powderpuff game junior year. She unintentionally hiked my dress up, past the point of any hope for modesty with the movement of her legs around me.

I inhaled deeply of her vanilla and citrus, closing my eyes, holding her body tightly against mine. She sure as hell wasn't lying when she said that she was going to hug me "so hard".

But, she kissed me even harder.

She started at my neck with fervent lips, before placing her hands firmly on my shoulders to jump down from our embrace.

"God I missed you." She professed between desperate kisses.

It was like coming home.

Quinn was an expert at physically resolving my insecurities. Admittedly, communication was not a strong suit for either of us. I had spent years hiding behind bite and venom, while Quinn found it difficult to use words that she never believed herself when others used them.

So yes, I had been worried about what this distance meant for us. I had been worried if she was as committed to making this work as I was.

But her kiss, her touch, it was my ultimate form of relief.

With each nip of her teeth on my earlobe, every postponed Skype date mattered less. With each surge of her tongue into my mouth, every mile of distance between us mattered less. With each grip of her fingernails into my skin, every denial of our relationship mattered less.

When she seemed completely and utterly torn between keeping our lips in constant contact and removing her shirt, it chipped away at any doubts or fears that I may have had about how things had changed between us.

Quinn was an artist, and not just because of what she could do on a canvas. She was a fucking master when it came to me and my body.

I wasn't sure if she felt the first piece of parchment hit her cheek. _Or the second, or third, or fourth. _After all, they weren't the only objects we were colliding with.

But it was when she tangled her fingers in dark twine rather than dark locks that she finally made note of the change in her surroundings.

I traced her hip bone with my thumb back and forth beneath her skirt, listening to the shallow of her breath as she absorbed the new additions to her dorm room.

She grasped the individual culprit that interrupted our physical reunion. I couldn't tell you which one she was reading because my eyes were focused on puzzled hazel. I was doing everything I could to drink her in now that she was near me once again.

I watched the gentle tilt of her head to the side before she looked around. Her fingers tightened ever so slightly on the paper by my cheek, her knuckles brushing against my skin.

"What have you done?" The corners of her lips turned down as she asked.

Instead of meeting my eyes she seemed to be analyzing every point at which twine met ceiling.

Her question was unexpected. It took me more than a second to respond. She didn't seem happy, and there was nothing pleasant to the surprise in her tone.

I went on the defensive immediately.

"What have I _done_? What the hell do you mean by that?" I reflected her accusatory tone, and even turned it up a notch.

Her lips thinned in the way they always did when she was feeling anxious. My "surprise" was what was making her feel that way. I didn't want to believe it.

"Calm down, San. It's just, what if my roommate comes back? How did you even attach these to the ceiling?" She went on as if she didn't know how hurt I would be by her reaction.

Also, she should have really known better than to tell me to calm down.

She was fucking paranoid about her roommate coming back early and how long it would take to remove the gesture, before she even understood it.

Her response was a swift punch to the gut and then some. My vulnerabilities were outlined once again for her on parchment paper, but I hadn't realized until that moment how vulnerable I still was. At times, Quinn, and our relationship, had made me feel invincible.

I hated how fragile I suddenly felt, as if she once again had the power to make or break me.

"Calm down, calm down?! Are you kidding me? Your roommate is supposed to be gone the whole weekend. What? Do you think she's going to drive all the way back from Jersey because she forgot her favorite pen or something? Your paranoia is out of control." I tried to keep my voice low so as to not call attention of the dorms on either side of hers, but I was irritated to say the least.

_God_, it felt like everything lately was on her terms, and I was a little fed up with all of her fucking rules.

"You don't get it! This is my future that you're screwing with, Santana." Quinn clearly had the same thought in mind, because she was basically hissing at me instead of yelling.

This was far from the reunion that I had anticipated.

"Your future? What about _our_ future?" I was sick and tired of everything being about Quinn's "future".

It wasn't even_ her_ future that she was laboring to protect. It was the future her family wanted her to have.

"You're being selfish and short-sighted. I would lose everything if my father found out, and my mom isn't like yours. You _know _that." Quinn ranted as she stormed to retrieve her shirt that had landed on the ladder for her roommate's lofted bed.

She was right. My mother was about as independent as people come, but her mother lived to please Russell Fabray.

But, she would still have me, and all of our friends. She would still have that genius fucking brain of hers, her talent, and her unrelenting ambition.

"You would not lose everything. You're being dramatic, and I'm not pushing you to come out, I'm just asking for you to loosen the fuck up a little." My voice strained with effort.

This wasn't the first time that we had argued over this, but this time, this time felt different.

We couldn't even have our arguments at full volume. I had to express myself at a level just above a passionate whisper, and it was just serving to fuel my anger.

"I'm not being dramatic. If my father caught even a whisper of us, he has all of the resources in the world to discover exactly what we are to each other. You are one huge risk for me. Stop acting like some sort of victim." She pulled her shirt over her head with such force that I was afraid her head was going to get caught in the sleeve.

As she covered the skin that I had been aching to touch for weeks, I had a brief flash of regret. Part of me wished that I would have just bit my tongue. Part of me wondered which position we would be in now, or what surface we would be on now if I had just taken down the twine and parchment without argument.

The other part of me was fighting. Logically I knew that she loved me as I did her. Logically I knew that her extreme attempts to keep us a secret had nothing to do with how much she cared for me. But, there was still something in me, a voice in my head, that reminded me that I was something of which to be ashamed.

Ever since she realized just how much Puck and Mercedes had gathered about our relationship without our confession, she had seemingly redoubled her efforts to make sure that no one else discovered our secret. It irked me that she had been more comfortable with PDA before we were an item than she was after. She used to be comfortable with me taking her hand. She let me slow dance with her at Junior Prom, but refused me for our Senior Prom. She was even conscious of the length of our hugs.

A couple months ago, she had fallen asleep with her head on my shoulder while we were having a movie marathon at Mercedes'. Tina had joined us while Quinn was sleeping, and when my girlfriend's eyes had fluttered open to ascertain Tina's presence, Quinn had basically sprinted out of the room with the excuse of getting drinks.

"Victim? You are _everything_ to me, and I'm just your dirty little secret." I gripped the wooden post of her bed during my verbal attack.

It wasn't a whole truth. It was just that dreadful echo in the back of my mind.

I swallowed at her steely, offended expression. I knew that I had gone too far.

"You can't pretend that this is just about your dad. This is about the perfect image that you neurotically feel the compulsion to maintain. Heaven forbid that Quinn fucking Fabray is a lesbian. You can't stand the thought of people looking at you like a second class citizen." I accused her, and my stomach turned with the pained flinch of her angelic features.

"You're just like everyone else! Pushing me to do what you want. Pushing me to be who _you_ want me to be." She reproached.

I had stepped over the line, and she was merely following suit.

The thing was, we had both done so well during the past year to stand our ground when the other person would cross the line. We were both prone to losing our tempers, but we weren't 16 anymore. We had learned how to fight without resorting to going straight for the throat.

I didn't know what she could have said to me that would have wounded me more. I wanted her to be who she wanted to be, not who I wanted her to be.

_Right? _

_ Or was I just like everyone else? _

"Fuck, Quinn, you know that's not true!" I argued, and closed some of the distance between us as the sound of my blood began to pound in my ears.

"Isn't it? You want me to come out, you want me to study art, you want me to quit my sorority, you want me to drop everything to come see you, you want me to ignore my father. You're just one more person whispering in my ear, and I can't take it." She listed her examples with practiced precision, and all I could do was scowl.

"I want you to be happy." My voice weakened with this assertion, but I still wasn't entirely convinced that I had been doing anything wrong.

It was true that I wanted her to be happy. But did I just want her happiness to happen my way? I wasn't sure of that anymore.

"And who the fuck are _you_ to tell me what is going to make me happy? These are my decisions, Santana." Quinn reminded me.

"Yeah? And what's next, Q, huh? What's the big plan for the perfect little daddy's girl? What timeline does he have for you for your proper engagement duration and your marriage to the perfect blue-blooded white man?" I mocked her with more malice than I thought I was capable of directing at her anymore.

It wasn't that I was ready for an engagement or marriage or anything like that. I just, whenever I thought of those things in passing or whatever, it was always her. My future was pretty unclear in general, but she was always a part of it.

"What are you asking me right now?" After a few deep breaths her expression had softened. My face mirrored the movement of hers.

_What was I asking? _

I wasn't asking her to come out, I knew that. But Quinn never spoke about what things would be like when she did. She didn't respond to me when I would talk about how great it would be to not have to spend so much energy on hiding or when I had my dorky rambling moments about going on actual dates.

During our first relationship discussion when I had asked her if she wanted a secret relationship her answer had been "For now, yes." It was an answer that promised that our hidden state would not be an indefinite one.

I had told her that I would never push her for what she wasn't ready for, and I hoped that that wasn't what I had been doing. But hell, it had been a year, and that "For now" was the only real sign that I had that things would change eventually.

"I will wait for you. But, at the very least I need to know that this is not the way you will treat me forever, and that this is not the way that you will treat yourself forever. Can you tell me that, Quinn?" Any bite from my tone had vanished. I rested one hand on her hip and the other on her cheek.

She leaned into the touch of my hand, and I took that as a good sign, despite how fast my heart was beating.

Although we had our share of disagreements on her choices, I hadn't straight up asked her if we were ever going to have a non-secret relationship. It was possibly the most important question I had ever asked her. I was hanging in the balance here.

She remained silent, her mouth did not even open to speak. In fact, she glanced away after a few moments under my gaze.

"I'm proud of you. I want to introduce you to my new friends as my girlfriend. I want to be able to stop lying to _our_ friends. You fought for so long for me to show more of myself to other people and yet you ask me to hide a significant part of who I am." I explained, watching her slight smile at my declaration of pride. Her face darkened at the finish, however.

"You said you would wait. You promised that you understood." Her teeth gritted and she yanked my hand down from her cheek by my wrist.

"I _will_ wait for you. I'll continue to deal with the dropped phone calls, and your insane paranoia about how platonic you sound when you speak to me while others are around. I will do all of it. Every time you take your hand from mine it cracks away at what you have helped me build behind closed doors. But you are worth it, and I love you so much that it fucking hurts. Here's the thing though, I need to know that it won't be like this forever. I _need_ to know. Do you _ever_ see yourself being open with me?" I implored her to answer.

It was the same question, although far more specific. This _was_ the most important question that I had ever asked her. This was a make it or break it question.

"I don't know." Her eyes leveled with mine at her response. It was almost a whisper, but I heard it loud and clear. I also recognized the fear in her almond shaped eyes.

I stumbled back, and registered the devastatingly unfamiliar rise of water from behind my eyes. It had been almost a year since I had cried.

"Santana—" She moved to catch me as if she feared that I would fall.

She didn't realize that I already had. Her answer to my question had shoved me off a ledge. She was no longer capable of catching me.

_Breathe._

I begged my body. It should be such a simple task. Breathing. It's something that we do each and every day without the need for conscious thought.

_It was over._ It wasn't something that I could even begin to process yet, but the truth was there.

She knew me, better than anyone else in the world, and she knew what devastated Santana looked like. I watched with distant interest as her face flashed with panic.

"Baby no. You can't. We can't be-" She was trying to wrap her arms around me.

She was fighting to keep me close. Unlike the day in the choir room, after my parents paid a visit, I wasn't pulling her back into me after pushing her away. I was just pushing.

I couldn't breathe. The weight was too great. Breath had escaped my chest and no matter how many sharp intakes of air that I tried to take, I couldn't seem to catch it. It didn't help that I had soft desperate hands reaching for my face, and a voice pleading with hot distress against my skin. Her lips made contact with my cheeks, forehead, jaw, and eyelids several times, but I was too dizzy to really absorb it.

I needed her arms around me, holding me as tightly as she could possibly muster to do. But I couldn't have that anymore. I couldn't let myself collapse into her. I couldn't do what I needed to do if I did.

I had to leave. We had to end. This had to end. I couldn't resign myself to limbo with the woman that I wanted everything with.

"I'm sorry." I gasped, and fire replaced panic as her eyes shifted from hazel to green.

I never thought I would let her go. I didn't think that it was something that I was capable of doing. She had labored to show me what I deserved. From that night in the storage room on, she had worked so fucking hard to get me to see the good in myself. She had made me feel worthy of love.

She had promised me forever, but I never thought to discuss what forever meant.

"Don't you fucking say it." She threatened.

I moved in to hug her, but it was her turn to push me away. _Push and pull._ I had almost forgotten this part of our dynamic. _Almost._

"No. I don't want your goodbye hug." She turned her head away, and by the tremble of her upper lip I knew exactly why she did so.

I had found some semblance of breath. Even at the end we were still us. When one was losing it, the other always found strength.

"We'll be frien—" I asserted, trying yet again to reach out for her.

_ Fire and ice. Light and dark. Push and pull._

Was this our destiny all along?

"Friends Santana really? We don't do friends. We do hate or we do love, but we never worked as friends. How could you do this to me?" She was grimacing behind her tears now, and I knew all of her fears of abandonment were coming to fruition.

This is exactly what she had worked to convince herself not to expect all along.

She yanked an entire string of twine down with her on her crouch to the floor. At least she knew how easy they were to remove. I almost laughed bitterly at the thought.

She pointed forcefully to the door before I could make any further move to comfort her.

Who was I to comfort her, in any case? I was quickly becoming a sobbing mess myself. My face was wet and my hands were shaking. I knew that I should walk away.

"I love you." I needed her to know it. It was probably selfish to say it.

"Then don't leave." Her final plea. I was well aware of what it meant. Quinn Fabray didn't beg or plead for anyone else but me. She, like me, didn't allow others to see her break. We had been an exception for one another. In so many ways.

It broke my fucking heart.

_Was it really so bad?_ I had found my paradise. Sure, it was only behind closed doors, but some people didn't get to experience it at all.

"I need more." And with those words, I knew it to be true.

She didn't follow me when I rushed out of her dorm room, while still doing everything I could to not make a spectacle of myself. Not that I cared in that moment, but I knew it was what Quinn would have wanted.

Each piece of parchment had possessed a reason as to why this had been the best year of my life. I had never expected for it to be over.

* * *

**A/N: Where to start? This has been an incredible journey for me and I appreciate all of the support and feedback I have received as well as every single reader. I never expected anything like this when I started, and it has been such a humbling and rewarding experience.**

**This _was_ the final chapter. However, I have a future fic outlined that will take place in this same alternate universe. So, although Locked In and Loving to Hate It is over, the story is not. You can author alert me or follow me on Tumblr at quasisuspect if you want to keep in the loop. Otherwise, I may come back and eventually edit this note with the name of the new fic.**


	39. Chapter 39

Hello, readers!

I just wanted to pop in here for those who may not have me author alerted or who may not follow me on tumblr. I posted the first chapter for the sequel to Locked In and Loving to Hate It. It's titled "I'll Be Your Mirror".

Thank you all again for your continued support, and for those of you who are still interested, I hope you enjoy the sequel!

Sincerest regards,

Quasi

P.S. As always if you have any questions or comments feel free to contact me.


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